The Celestial City
by L.B. Tempia
Summary: Elora Roux is a modern-day, young woman who travels to the past; into the grand world of King Louis XIV's court. The coming together of a 21st century woman and a 17th century man seems it can only bring conflict, in the beginning at least.
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

Young Prince Louis, only five years old, had been standing patiently in the room where his dying father laid abed gasping for breath and coughing horrendously to expel the air. His young brother was beside him, held in his nurse's arms. He was irritated and rubbing his face against her shoulder, not understanding what was happening and wanting to sleep.

His mother, the queen sat devotedly on the bed beside her husband. There were the doctors mumbling with worried looks. The priests stood, crucifixes in hand, chanting prayers. Then there were dozens of courtiers, all eyes looked upon his father with solemn, yet pensive expressions.

Prince Louis slowly approached the bed and reached out to touch his father's hand. His hand was so small in comparison. How was he to do what his father did when his hand was so much smaller? He would do less; achieve less. Boys were not supposed to be kings. He needed to be a man, like his father. He could never fill his father's position as king if were to begin at so young an age.

"Who is it?" coughed his father.

"Louis XIV," he managed to say. He knew his father would be pleased with such a reply and he was for a minute or so. The king smiled slightly, but soon turned his head away, closing his eyes. Louis returned to his place by his brother.

When his father breathed his last there was silence and his mother let out a single cry as tears ran down her slightly wrinkled face. There were several moments of stillness as the courtiers prayed. Then as if they had entirely forgotten the terrible hours they had just spent at a king's deathbed they all turned to face him, like wolves as they spotted their prey.

They cheered and bowed down to him, their new king. Shouts were heard throughout out the palace and then echoed throughout the streets of Paris. He was not prepared for this role; he had barely mastered reading. His frightened heart asked why did his father have to die now and leave all of this to him?

His mother stood, dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and commenced with royal protocol. She walked from the bed to him, curtsied at his small feet, and kissed his hand.

"You are now king, my son."

It was the Lord's year of 1643, the 21st of April to be precise, when France's king departed from this life and this young dauphin, Prince Louis was proclaimed king; forever changing his life, all in France, and all of those yet to come.

CHAPTER 1

Nineteen years later, Louis had become a king who was adored by his subjects with his charismatic ways, but at the same time viewed by some as inept, as he made one foolish blunder after another in his rule. The Queen Mother and Mazarin were no longer alive to aid him. He had boldly taken control of the throne by himself and proven to France that he was of age to govern. He had Versailles Chateau built and along with that came the emptying of the royal treasury. To compensate for the king's insatiable spending taxes increased, which no citizen ever liked.

King Louis made his way to his chambers after a long night of revelry. Walking at a brisk pace along side him was his chief advisor and minister of finance, Jean Baptiste Colbert, the Marquis de Seignelay. The king was badgering him once again about the only subject he ever expressed an interest in.

"I find myself constantly loving women," said the king haughtily. "The entire court wants me to end the passion I have, to be with every heavenly creature that crosses my path. I cannot devote my heart to just one woman and sincerely do not think I ever will alter myself. There are so many of these charming creatures whom _all_ have innocuous qualities I desire. It's a delectable thing to conquer the heart of a young beauty by a hundred sweet intimacies; to see yourself making small advancements with her every day; to contest her pristine innocence and her unwillingness to succumb; to break through all her little strongholds, one by one; to eliminate her treasured ethics, and gently bring her around to bestow your desires.

"But once I have accomplished my intent, there is nothing left in the liaison; the ecstasy of passionate pursuit is over. Until that is, some new beauty emerges and restores my desires, alluring my heart with the hope of a new victory.–Oh," he said with a sigh. "Of late my mistresses have been quite dull. Intelligence is something I yearn to find in a woman. All the lovely creatures I have known are so dimwitted and frankly do not think. I wish I could have a woman within my grasp who is as clever as a man. What kind of woman would she be?"

"My Lord, nothing is enough for the man to whom enough is too little.–That woman you speak of does not exist. It is not possible for a woman to have the intelligence of a man. God made woman to serve man, not to think or have witty opinions," said Colbert, nostrils flaring as they always did when he was holding back some insult.

Louis was undressed and changed into his nightshirt by his officers and valets. As he was stripped of his green doublet he recalled the last time that doublet was removed. It was slipped off by a pretty lady with jet-black hair and alabaster-blue eyes. He made love to her in the privacy of his billiard room, shortly before several courtiers were to be admitted to play a few games with him. They made love in such a rough and tumble way, remembering it now it made his loins burn with desire to possess her once again. He could not remember her name at that moment, but he knew she was a cousin to the Comtesse de Maine. She was by now sent away from his court and married he remembered. It pleased him to marry off his dismissed mistresses to his nobles. As he thought more about it he recalled the Comtesse de Maine had been looking terribly desirable of late; she might do nicely as his next mistress.

"Colbert, you are correct I am sure. There is no such woman. I shall never find her. And if she does exist somewhere in this world it is not as if she will not just happen to come to my Versailles in search of me. Things such as this are not so simple."

"You are still quite young; this should not be a worry to you. There are more important things, Your Majesty, such as efficiently governing your kingdom."

King Louis nodded. Colbert knew just when to slip such comments into conversation. He excused the insufferable Marquis as he walked to his bedchamber to retire.

When he went to bed he was still frustrated with women for not being capable of satisfying him. He knew Colbert thought his discontentment was altogether trivial and foolish. Yet he always seemed to be his one advisor that supported him the most. Mazarin had been a fine advisor, but he having controlled Louis reign for so long in his youth, had become a burden to his rule in the last few years that he lived. Colbert had been with him since he was a boy and had always led him in the right direction. Louis wished he took Colbert's advice more often. It nearly always happened whenever crisis struck he followed through with his own ideas, instead of heeding to Colbert's words.

King Louis thought of himself as an irresistible and tantalizing man. He had his way with so many women, he was not sure he remembered them all. He was tired of all the women about him. The ladies of the court no longer sparked his interest, nor brought fire to his loins. The conquest of them was all too easy, which had served him well in previous years, but now had lost its excitement.

Mademoiselle Blondelle de Marlon, his last mistress, was the perfect example of the sort of women he was bored with. She was a beauty with her golden tresses and plump bosom. A month ago she had visited court with her guardian, Viscomte de Folligny. On the day of her introduction, when she curtsied to the floor at the king's feet he received a full downward view of her ample breasts and was henceforth enthralled with her. He was able to seduce her within six days with his flattery and kingly attention.

She had remained her high position as his mistress for barely three weeks. Three nights ago while lying abed with her after making love she began speaking to him about her home and her deceased parents. He would not have minded so much, but this was a topic she had brought up practically every day since she came to court. Then there was her nervous, high-pitched giggle, which ensued after every time she thought she said something witty. Louis was never amused though. All at once her face and lavender scent nauseated him. He stalked out of her chamber without saying one word to her.

The next morning he had his Secretary of State find a courtier to wed Mademoiselle Blondelle. She had a small dowry, but he would provide her with something more substantial to induce the intended bridegroom. He had deflowered her after all. The lady was content enough with the match, not as if it mattered much to him though. Just this day he sent her away from court with a husband, the Marquis de Noyelles.

Louis wanted a young lady for himself whose seduction would be a challenge, a lady who would not give into him so easily. If only he could seduce a woman without her knowing he was a king. He wondered if his skills would still be as proficient on such a lady. Was it he who had seduced all these women or was it truly his crown? This lady would also need to be witty. He liked to laugh and it had been so long since a woman had made him laugh, unless it was from her stupidity.

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Colbert stalked back to his chambers after the king dismissed him. He did not like thinking his king was insufferable and lecherous, but he could not help himself. King Louis was forever consumed with himself and his string of lovers that he carelessly dismissed his responsibilities as king. Along with many other advisors, Colbert continued urging him to choose a fertile young bride and sire an heir. Since King Louis' family came into power there were no lawful royalty other than his brother and a few distant cousins. Louis knew all of this and still did not want to consider holy wedlock at present. His fate was to marry an ill-faced princess with a large pocketbook, but Louis told him just yesterday that intended to preclude marriage for a good ten years.

Colbert knew Louis was not safe on the throne unless he had an heir. Louis had to marry a royal heiress and the sooner the better. The country was in debt to the rich nobles because of the construction and garnishing of the Versailles Palace, yet King Louis' attentions persisted on these asinine liaisons with mindless women. Louis usually accepted all of his advice, but on this one subject he could never get through to him. Colbert was at his wits end.

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King Louis awoke the next morning feeling only partly refreshed. He reminisced on the mornings he would wake with his arms wrapped around some nude beauty. It was then he was roused from a breathing that was not his own. This did not surprise him, he was sure it was one of his officers standing beside his bed, waiting for him to wake, waiting to attend to him.

He turned to his side, opening his eyes. His eyes practically crossed as he focused in on an elbow pointing right at him, only a hairsbreadth from his face. He quickly sat up as he saw a body lying beside him completely covered by a sheet. His initial thought was to call for the guards, yet the delicate ivory arm, seemed that of a lady, so instead he pulled the sheet away from the body. It was a young woman! Louis feared he was loosing his memory, for he did not recall taking a woman to bed the previous night. Yes, he did go to bed alone, he remembered the cold blanket that covered him and there was no woman there to warm him up.

She certainly did not look familiar to him. She was the most beautiful being he had ever beheld. He would have remembered that face. Her tangled tresses were a shade of red, as he had only seen in the copper metal. If he were to guess by only the length of her hair her would believe she was a boy. She must have lost it to illness and it was growing back so beautifully.

She had a faint aroma on her of an exotic flower, possibly freesia. His gardens would soon have freesia in bloom and perhaps he would stroll in them with this lady. This was a sign, they would someday make love in his garden of freesia.

Her skin was fair and soft looking and sprinkled with light freckles. Then he noticed her face was tear-stained. Who could have been the cause of those tears? It could possibly be him, for he had made many a lady weep, either from too much loving or not enough loving. With her slight frown and her rhythmic breath she captivated him. Her body was trim and youthful. She was resting on her stomach, with her torso curved toward him, one leg slightly bent, and the other straight. Her head was turned toward him, one arm under the pillow, the other closest to him was gracefully resting upon the pillow.

He wondered how she could have slipped into his chamber unnoticed. His Swiss Guards protected the gates and perimeter of the property and his _Grade du Corps_ kept watch at his door as well as throughout the chateau. She could be dangerous, perhaps even an assassin. Still donning her nightclothes he assumed nothing had happened between them. Perhaps her being in his bed, dressed or not, was a part of a treasonous plot. He cared not if she was an enemy; her beauty intoxicated his senses. It would be a joy to die at the hands of such a beautiful enemy.

He had never seen a lady's nightclothes such as she was wearing. They resembled gentlemen's undergarments. She wore knee length breeches and a sleeveless top. Louis never imagined this specific combination of clothing would be so appealing on a young female body. Her mystery allured him further. The idea of making love to that beautiful body consumed his thoughts. He could even wake her at this very moment and make love to her.

Louis did not wish to wake the sleeping angel, but his curiosity overpowered him.

"Madame," King Louis whispered softly, as avoid frightening her. He sat beside where she slept in the bed, tipping his head down toward her. "Madame, please awaken."

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Elora slightly stirred from sleep to someone nudging her shoulder. Her limbs felt like they had fifty-pound weights on them. Her eyelids felt glued shut. Her mind was clouded, as if trying to see ahead while in the middle of a snowstorm and seeing nothing but a blanket of white.

She cracked open her eyes and saw a boy facing her. Everything was a blur, but she could still make out his striking turquoise eyes.

_I'm dead. I know it. I'm in heaven. This Being before me must be God. But if I'm dead why am I so tired?_

"Are you an angel or God?" she mumbled in English.

His eyes widened as he quickly drew away from her. "English!" he replied speaking with a French accent. "Who are you?"

She rubbed her face into the pillow, then peered at him through half open eyes. "Elora," she said beginning to nod back off into her all-escaping sleep. "Am I dead?"

"No, you are within my apartments."

"I might as well be dead," were her last words to him before she fell asleep again, turning onto her side with her back to him.

King Louis looked on the Englishwoman, his mind now cluttered with even more questions. He was disappointed not to be able to speak to her more, flabbergasted she did not recognize who he was, and double angry that she was English. Despite this her beauty echoed through those beautiful emerald eyes and all the terrible ideas he had about her dissipated.

Elora, what a beautiful name, but who was she? How did this Englishwoman get in his bed? He wanted to learn more, but he became aware that she was not in a natural sleep. She must have taken a pretty strong potion. Unless she did not take it of her own free will.

Perhaps someone had drugged her and deliberately placed her in his bed to ruin him, for he had enough enemies. She must be a princess, he thought. If he were caught with her in his bed, he would have no choice but to marry her. A courtier was one matter, but a princess, virginal or not, was not to be seduced. A thwarted princess could easily lead to war. He had to avoid even the chance of starting war. The girl would remain a secret, locked in his rooms until she confessed to this plot to take over _his_ France. He would never ally himself to the English. The man behind the plot could be any of his trusted men and likely even living here in the chateau. Unsure of whom to trust his only decision for the present was secrecy from all. If no one but he knew, then as far as the world knew she was not here.

He would perhaps transfer her via the hidden passages too another chamber once she was conscious. Now though, in the state she was in he could not tend to her. He was king after all. He never even tended to himself; that was his vassals' job. He would have to appoint a servant girl to tend to her womanly needs.

King Louis put on his robe and looked at he clock on his mantle. It was nearly eight in the morning. His officers would be coming in to dress him in less than an hour. They could not find her here. How could he suddenly change the protocol he created to be strictly enforced? He would simply have to be dressed in another room today.

The king opened his bedchamber doors himself, quickly ordering them to be shut them behind him by the guards. Colbert was already standing there waiting for him. _Did that man ever sleep?_ Colbert greeted him with a peppy smile.

"I need a handful of servant girls here, now."

"Did you have that bad of a night, Your Majesty?"

"Colbert, I am in no mood for jokes at the moment."

He turned to a guard standing by his door and told him to inform the servants not to enter his bedchamber this morning. No one would dare question him, even Colbert, no matter how odd his demand.

There were serving women of all sorts that entered only minutes later. Most were fat or old or both. The older the women the more they gossip, Louis thought. He finally chose a young woman with straw blond hair and a shy smile. She was no longer in her youth, but still looked capable. He was pleased with her manner and excused all the rest of the women.

Louis spoke authoritatively to all the officers whom had gathered in the king's apartment, "To the rest of you if any living soul comes into this bedchamber or so much as opens the door they will be executed without delay. Only this serving girl and I are to ever enter my bedchamber. This command will be in effect as long as it pleases me. Am I rightly understood?"

The whole roomful of his subjects nodded vigorously and made assurances they would not disobey, only Colbert looked upset by this command. The king reentered his bedchamber with the servant girl following behind.

King Louis circled her in an intimidating fashion. "I cannot recall the last time I addressed a servant.–Are you prepared to do your duty to your king no matter what he asks of you?"

"Yes, Majesty," she answer, looking only to the floor.

It was obvious to Louis that this creature thought he was going to make love to her, but he would never consider the degradation. A king did not need to bother with servants, ladies of refinement were the only ones worthy of that honor. He did bed one once, but that was only because she was conveniently there in his chamber and her breasts were bursting out of the seams of her gown. It appeared to him she was offering herself and he had no problem taking it. But this scrawny girl was not in his taste, far too flat in the important places.

"I am about to reveal something unto you that no one, not even my advisors nor my servants know about. If you betray this secret and it is circulated I will know it has been you. I will then have no choice but to charge you with treason. Do you understand, girl?"

She nodded the affirmative.

He wanted the young, fear stricken servant woman to rightly understand her new duties. "Madame, there is no reason for you to worry. You are mistaken about the reason why you are here.–I am assigning you to attend to a very important lady for me." King Louis pushed back the curtain enveloping the bed to reveal Elora.

"Who is she, Majesty?" she asked hesitantly.

King Louis would not consider confiding in a servant. How dare she even ask? "That is none of your concern. You just follow my orders. She is to remain in my chambers and _no one_ is to know about her. Tend to her carefully. When she wakes send for me immediately. Do not let her leave this room.–Whatever you need for this lady get it. I will consent to it. No one will be capable of declaring I treated this lady badly."

King Louis left his bedroom, heading for his dressing room. He reminded the two guards beside the door that no one goes in or out of his bedroom except for that servant girl. "You will give her no difficulty. Whatever you hear in there the next few days pretend you did not hear it. If screams echo from the room ignore them. For no reason will you enter that room.–If it sounds like someone is being murdered or attacked what will you do?"

They straightened their posture, showing they were at attention to do the king's bidding. Albert, the elder of the two guards, could not remember a time before now when the king had actually spoken to them directly. Something terrible must be going on if the king was speaking to them. "We will not enter, sire. We will send for you, sire."

King Louis nodded with approval.

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Suzanne Gilbert stood beside the bed looking down on the sleeping lady. "No one will be capable of declaring _I_ treated this lady badly," she imitated the king. "Yes, being trapped in King Louis, the infamous seducer's bedchamber is the best treatment a virginal princess could want."

She sat down for a moment and wondered how she got hoisted into this duty. The king was such a selfish man. He gave her this task, yet he could give her no details of the lady's condition. Who was she? Was she unwell? Where was she from? Did she come with trunks of her possessions? Did she speak their tongue? Suzanne hoped she spoke French, for she knew no other language.

Moments like this she wished her husband, Francis, were still alive. Being widowed now for five years she was used to doing things on her own. Francis always knew what to do. His death from the war with the Belgians had been heart breaking, mainly because he was her only family. They had not been able to have children. He was away so often she did not think she would have been so lost after his death. It took her months, practically living on the streets, before she got this job at the royal palace. She diligently worked here for years without anyone taking notice of her, until today.

As the lady slept Suzanne prepared for her awakening. She looked through her mistress' bags beside the bed, but found nothing that could be of help to her. Suzanne knew not what most of the objects in her bags were.

The lady had no gowns or underskirts or corsets or stockings to speak of. There was only a jumbled bunch of underclothes. The material was coarse and looked like something the gardeners wore. The lady's shoes were white, leathery, clunky things that looked like they may have been boots that had been cut down at the ankle. There was an odd, spherical hairbrush that she believed must be meant for animals. She removed from the bag many objects of all shapes and sizes, unable to tell if they were made of a metal or wood. Then there were three transparent, soft-glass bottles containing oddly scented liquids. She had never known there was existence of such a creation as soft glass. It was amazing; she could bend it with a slight touch and then it moved right back into place once she removed the pressure.

"This lady must come from the other side of the world to have such odd possessions as these," Suzanne said to herself.

She would have to make several trips to fetch all the things her mistress would need. Suzanne left the king's chamber to get clean linens, clothes, and every utensil she could think of that could be used to beautify her mistress when she woke. Upon return she found the lady was still sleeping, just as she had left her.

This newly appointed duty would far outweigh her position at the king's court before now. Cleaning the chateau and lighting the chandeliers in the evening with Guy Bouchard was a bore. Caring for this mysterious young lady would certainly be worth the effort.

**Hello,**

**I hope you enjoyed this first part of The Celestial City. I assure you the chapters to come continue to grow in excitement and move along at a nice pace. Once Elora wakes no person at Versailles will be the same again; she is quite a firecracker who makes her presence known. I had a fun time writing her.**

**I value your reviews greatly. Please tell me what you think.**

**~L.B. Tempia~**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

As the day progressed, the Englishwoman was all King Louis could think about. The way her shapely body moved as she turned her back to him in bed and her floral scent had mesmerized him in such a way he could hardly pay any attention during the meetings he held with foreign dignitaries or while sitting in council with his esteemed advisors. He wanted so much to know more about her. He planned to see her after he changed his garments for dinner. He would speak with her whether she was yet awake or not.

King Louis arrived in his chambers at noon. His men had just begun to remove his attire when he became fully overcome with the need to see the sleeping Englishwoman. He donned a robe and made his way to his bedchamber, unable to wait a minute longer to speak with her.

He found _Elora_ sleeping soundly on his bed with the servant in a chair beside her. Louis locked the door and put the key in his pocket. He questioned the servant woman if she had yet awakened.

"Nay, Majesty," Suzanne said. "I hope I am not too bold, but there is something very strange about this lady."

"What do you mean?"

Suzanne pulled back the lady's hair, showing how her ear lobes were pierced very oddly. Each ear was pierced through in several places with inferior looking jewelry. She also presented the girl's bag of possessions, none of which were useful to anyone. He really could not determine what any of it was.

He became worried that she really was a peasant. She was clean, smelled fresh, her hands were soft, though her fingernails were cut short. Her nightwear was queer, but in new condition. Nothing about this girl made any sense.

"Well, I will just have to ask her about all this when she wakes." Without even turning to look at the servant woman Louis ordered, "Wait outside this chamber until I summon you."

Suzanne quickly exited the room via the servant's door.

King Louis sat on the bed beside the girl. Taking smelling salts out of his pocket, he was ready for this lady to wake and explain herself. He waved it under her perfect little nose as she drew breath.

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What was that eye-stinging stench that filled her senses? She assumed it was something her brothers has invented to annoy her. She coughed for a moment. She suddenly felt a gentle touch against her hand.

"Ohhh…just five more minutes, Ma," she mumbled, not ready to face the day. She moved to pull the pillow over her head.

"Awaken Elora," was the only reply, but it was not the voice of her mother, or even a woman. At this realization she opened her dry eyes and life came into focus. There was a man standing over her, a man she did not know!

"Ahhhhhhhh!" Elora's scream pierced the silence in the room. She hastily fumbled off the other side of the bed. Then she noticed that was not her bed and she was certainly not in her room. Her screams grew louder and it seemed she could not stop. Her head was pounding, touching it briefly she felt a sore lump on the back of her head. Had that man knocked her unconscious last night? Where was she and who was this man in the room with her?

She eyed the door at the same moment he did. She made a run for it, practically crashing into it. It was locked! She began to pound at the golden door. "Help me! Please someone! Anyone! Help!"

He quickly pulled her away from the door, as if he had been anticipating her attempt. She fought him with all her strength. She grasped the door handle for dear life. He practically lifted her off her feet as she kicked and screamed to disconnect her from the door.

He barely took a few steps back when she elbowed him in the chest and squirmed out of his grasp. She ran past the fireplace and grabbed hold of the fire iron. As he tried to move forward she swung at him several times and they were not idle swings intended to threaten. She was fully prepared to smash his skull in if he tried to grab her again.

"Where am I? Who are you? Please let me go home!" Elora shrieked.

He could not understand her questions blended with screams. "Tell me why you speak in the English tongue? Are you indeed English?"

Her forehead crinkled in a confused manner. She had no idea what was this kidnapper talking about. He was obviously insane.

"No," she squeaked as she made another swing at him.

"How did you get into my bedchamber?"

"Your bedchamber? I…I don't know. Didn't you kidnap me? Please don't hurt me!" She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her hands were visibly shaking. And her wrists were sore; why? Had he tied her up while she slept? She had too many questions and did not like how he was still the one questioning her.

"I assure you I am no criminal. Do you not know who I am?"

"A crazy person!" Elora was completely perplexed why he kept asking her that same thing. He seemed to think she should know him, but she did not. By his look and voice he instantly seemed arrogant and proud, with his snooty French accent.

"I am King."

"Ha, yeah right! King of what? What have you been smoking?"

"Pardon? You appear in my bed and do not even know who I am! All should know the Sun King. I am King Louis XIV, third in the line in the house of Bourbon."

"Louis XIV, like the furniture?" He made no response to her nonsensical question. Her face distorted as her emotions changed from scared to doubtful to terrified. She started stepping back again. "Oh my God; you really are crazy!"

"Your looks insult me!–I am king."

"Okay, I'll play.–Then your highness, I think you should banish me from your presence and unlock that door right now. I want to go home."

"You speak with disbelief? I tell you I am king, bow down before me!"

She looked him up and down. "No way. Maybe you're a king in your own mind, but you're just a kid to me."

He shook his head with utterly stupefied look. "Not a king…it feels like I've never been anything but. Please cease this insanity and tell me who you are."

She hesitated, afraid to tell him. She was so totally confused. "My name is Elora Roux."

King Louis, as he called himself stepped towards her. She gasped and stepped back, slightly tripping on the rug. She momentarily regained her balance and again prepared to swing the poker at his head, king or not.

"If you promise not to touch me, I won't hit you."

He agreed without hesitation and assured her he intended her no harm. "I am sure this is simply a misunderstanding."

"So is this your house? Where exactly am I?"

"My chateau in Versailles."

She was confused again. "Isn't Versailles in France?"

"This…is…France," he said slowly, looking at her with distaste.

"You're kidding!" This was ridiculous, she thought. "Now, I know I must be dreaming." She lowered the poker, relaxing her stance.

"It is an odd dream to be had by two strangers."

"Yes, you're right. But If I didn't come here myself and you didn't kidnap me, how can I be standing here in the presence of the King of France. How did I get here? I'm no historian, but I thought there were no more kings in France. Didn't you guys have a revolution or something a long time ago?"

Elora walked around, looking at everything in the room. She got a better look at the room she was being held captive in. It was huge, at least fifty feet squared. Everything seemed to be gilded in gold. The king-size canopy bed frame must have been made out of solid gold. A thick gold and red brocaded curtain hung down from the very high ceiling, enveloping the bed. The walls were covered in gold panels and the ceiling was painted like a fresco of what looked like the god, Mars. The door was made of gold, with a baroque sun design. There were also two purple marble fireplaces with mirrors above them on opposite ends of the room. Across from the bed there were three arch windows. She was beginning to think she really was in a palace. This guy had to have been filthy rich in any case.

On the other side of the bed on the floor she saw something familiar. Her bag full of her stuff that she had brought back home from her place was sitting right there. She did not even have time to unpack it last night. Last night…

"Nay, there has been no revolution," he replied. "Actually I believe my reign of late has made France's government stronger than it ever has been in the seventeenth century."

"What?" Elora interrupted, wide-eyed. A sharp chill coursed through her whole body. The poker suddenly hit the wood floor, making a loud crashing sound amplified by the high ceiling. "Wait a minute! What did you say?" Her voice became desperate, "What year is it?"

Before he could answer, she ran to the window, ripping open the red velvet curtain. Her hands planted on each side of the window frame, as if holding her up. What she saw was a sight that was imprinted in her memory forever. She stood looking through the windowsill as far as the light could touch, on a nearly medieval looking kingdom. There was a great courtyard and a high wall separating the chateau from the city a few miles away. The image through that window was like a dream, yet so real. So many details, yet she would never forget anything, from the blossoms on the trees to the tiling on the roofs. Now this was not a dream, it was a nightmare!

"What has made terror and confusion suddenly overcome you? The year has not changed since yesterday. It is the year sixteen-hundred sixty-two."

"Oh…my…God!" she screamed as she turned towards him. "This is all a dream; it must be! I need to wake up." She slapped her own cheeks. "Wake up! This is all a dream! This isn't really happening! I must be going out of my mind! I just need to wake up!" She felt extremely lightheaded.

As he attempted to ascertain the cause of her terror he began to come towards her, stepping over the forgotten fireplace poker. She still persisted he not come near her, as she backed into the window. He sighed and moved even more towards her to try someway to calm her, insisting if she did not she would soon faint.

She reached her trembling hand out towards him. "You're a ghost?" Just as quickly as she pressed her hand up against his chest she moved it away. The idea of him being solid and not a ghost, convinced her this was no dream. A moan overcame her and she dropped to the floor burying her head in her bent knees, not knowing any other way to react.

"I am certainly not at all a ghost.–I am more apt to believe your are the spirit." His voice was calm and level.

She remembered last night she had just returned home for a few days. She was upset about something. She had been just gotten changed for bed when a feeling of exhaustion fell over her and as if a thick black cloak had fallen over her everything went dark. She again noticed the aching pain in her head and wrists. She had never felt pain in dreams before. She did not think that was even possible. Maybe she bumped her head and was comatose, which was why she was dreaming so vividly.

As soon she lifted her head, he began to step back slowly and sit in a chair several feet away. His actions were slightly comforting. Still remaining frightened, she was unable to stop her whole person from shaking like a jitterbug.

The young man asked her again where she came from and how she got into his chateau. She now, almost for the first time looked at this guy who claimed he was a king had this seductively mysterious and handsome look about him. All he wore was a classy silk robe, which gave him an aristocratic air. He had stood at least six inches above her. He had curly, brown hair, like the colour of dark chocolate, tied in a ponytail extending to his shoulder. There was a small, child-like dimple on that aristocrat's chin. His were blue eyes, reminding her of the Caribbean Sea, sparkled through his dark lashes. They were such honest eyes, enticing her to trust him.

She could not even explain her situation to herself, how could explain it to this boy? "I live in Massachusetts. You know, in America. Last night I fell asleep in my bed and woke up here in yours. I don't know how I got here."

"America? Do you mean the colony, Massachusetts? The utter absurdity of the idea, do not lie to me. You do not seem to understand what might be in store for you if you are lying.–I should call for the jailer at this moment to take you to the dungeons. Give me one reason why I should not."

If she was not dreaming and this was really real, she had to calm herself down quickly. Now she had to protect herself against this guy. Was he talking about real dungeons; like a dank prison? She was completely dependent on his help. She would have to explain, but would he believe her. She did not even believe it.

"I'm going to suggest a theory that I barely believe, so I doubt you will," Elora said hesitantly, rubbing her forehead. She stood, but did not move any closer to him. Where to start? "You see…I was born on April third in the year…_1990_. Yesterday it was 2009. I think I somehow traveled here from the future."

His prolonged stare was paralyzing. She did not know what else to say at that moment. For a minute he stood still and she was unable to guess his thoughts.

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Louis jumped back, flipping over the chair he had been sitting in. She thought she was from a future time! He could have imagined any other story true but that! Who was this creature? She spoke like a mad woman. Such fantastic things were not possible.

She was certainly not an English princess. The English would never allow themselves to be so discomposed as she was acting. Yet English seemed to be the only language she was versed in. Perhaps she was not a lady of breeding at all. This could all be a jest to trick the King of France into an alliance with a common London whore. Though she claimed she was not English at all.

This day was not playing forth as he had desired. Upon waking her only minutes ago he had not expected her to make such a ruckus. She had been running about his chamber like at caged animal from the wild, maybe even one who was possessed by a demon. Under the circumstances he believed, until this point, he had managed to remain calmer than he ever would have anticipated. Perhaps she had escaped from an asylum for the insane.

Why had she spoken as if his country was without a ruler? In terms of a revolution his first thought had been when the Bourbons took over rule of the monarchy from the Valois', but that had been over fifty years ago.

When she had first asked him the year he thought it a harmless, innocent question. He told her the year, but her confusion was unprecedented. How could someone not know the current year?Even if she really thought she was kidnapped what would the present date have anything to do with it.

Now she dared to defy God and logic, claiming she traveled back through time to come here. Liar, mad, bewitched, possessed, no rational alternative was good.

"_Le Future_?You are a witch!" She had to be a witch; time-travel was impossible. He would have her hanged immediately. She must have been sent here to kill him or worse place a curse on him.

"What am I suddenly in Salem now?" she spoke almost to herself, though he knew not what she spoke of.

The girl insisted there were no such thing as witches and that she could prove she was from the future. He was doubtful she could prove this fabrication, but would give her one chance before calling in the guards to take her away. He was still slowly taking steps backwards to the door as she now moved closer to him. She no longer had the poker, but if she were a witch she could do more damage with her spells.

"Impossible as it seems, I am from the future if this is indeed 1662. Your lack of a haircut and your renaissance-like view from the window speaks truth enough for you. Last night I was living in the year 2009. Now I am here in this antiquated world? I might as well have gone back to the time of the Roman Empire."

"Why don't you tell me about the future then, Mademoiselle, if that is where you really come from."

She explained she did not know where to begin. She did not know much about France, but she knew a lot of American history. So she told him about her home country and their qualms with the British. The forefathers called it taxation without representation. In 1775, they broke away from England and had the Revolutionary War. It lasted a few years and the Americans won their independence. They named themselves The United States of America. They became a representative republic.

The more she explained the more fascinated he became. He found himself moving towards her, entranced in conversation. He had never seen a woman wave her hands about like she was doing as she talked.

She spoke about everything she could think of to inform him of the three hundred years yet to come; from the Civil War to World War II, to the end to slavery, to communism, to the destruction of Hitler.

She sat on the bed, still talking on. He thought it was adorable her legs, which did not quite touch the floor, swung back and forth in a happy way. "On a lighter note, let me tell you about some inventions in the future. Electricity…is power that comes from charged particles. Like when you get a static shock from touching someone or lightning. We have found a way to create that power and use it for light in instead of candles, for heat instead of fire, to give power to machines and appliances. It is amazing, you simply flick a switch and an entire room lights up. Then there is the telephone that allows people to talk to each other if one is in France and the other China or just next door. One end you listen with and the other you speak into for the other person to hear you."

He was enthralled in the evocative depiction of the future she described. He could almost see her world through her words. He walked over the high-legged table to take a glass of wine for himself and Elora Roux. He first handed a glass to her, then began to drink his own. This lecture was the most overwhelming one of his life.

"And then there is the camera, which allows you to take a still-photo of anything. Just like painting a portrait only instant and it's a two-dimensional image. Then they continued advancements in photography and were able to record onto film moving pictures. These moving pictures can be watched anytime in the comfort of your home. So instead of having to go out to the theater you can watch a play that is recorded."

He could not comprehend her though.

"Well…hold both your thumbs and index fingers out and make a frame of a square with them. Okay now look with one eye through. Move all around…look out the window at people moving about. That is what it is like; the color, the movement, the sounds. You see it just like that on a glass screen that displays the image. Does that help?"

"It's just so extraordinary!"

"And I still have so much more to tell you."

His mind was feeling so cluttered and confused. He was not sure he could absorb much more information. Like…automobiles! Horse drawn carriages are out. These are big machines that you can drive around in like a carriage. Except instead of being powered by horses the machine uses gasoline to enable it to drive.–Then there are airplanes. Man figured out how to fly. We built big machines that are able to pick up so much speed that they defy gravity."

"Man…fly?" Louis had to sit down and take a breath. He was compelled to ask her if she had ever flown.

"Of course," she laughed. "Whenever we travel to distant places we always take a plane." Her voice was so nonchalant, as if she did not stand in stupefying awe of such miraculous things.

"It must be exhilarating to fly!"

"Yeah, flying is pretty remarkable.–Oh and people have also traveled into outer-space. Men have even walked on the moon."

He nearly choked on the last sip of wine he took. "Holy father in heaven! The moon! Have you ever been there?"

"Oh no! It's only for professionals, for scientific use. It costs millions of dollars for a person to take a week's journey into space and like I have a million bucks just lying around."

She smiled for the first time and she was radiant, like sculpture of Aphrodite in his garden. She had deep dimples, which formed ever so sweetly, on her cheeks. Her beauty almost made him loose track of the conversation.

The girl could not explain to him what enabled her to leave her time and come to his. There was no invention or discovery of the future, which she knew of. They came to a mutual decision that it must have been God's doing.

She confessed she had been praying last night before she fell into that blackening sleep. Her voice slowly softened, as her words slowed, and she gazed down at the floor. She was not looking at the floor for the reason of courtly protocol; no she was looking as if she was searching her mind for something she could not remember. "I was so scared and I asked God to take me away…"

Her voice trailed off, in such a way making him nervous. He questioned what exactly the Lord took her away from, but she only looked at him dazed and confused, then back at the floor. She tensely rubbed her forehead.

Her frustration exposed itself as she tapped the side of her head. "I…I can't remember. I was upset…about something."

King Louis feared he had asked too many questions. Now she seemed more confused than he. Whatever had happened to Elora Roux last night he suspected was not good. If she had unconsciously put it so far from her mind then it was probably better she not try too hard to remember it right now.

He diplomatically changed the subject, "Mademoiselle, you are a wonderful storyteller, but any lunatic can make up fascinating tales of another world.–If only there was a way you could prove it."

Elora turned her head toward him; her green eyes sparkled as if she was now recalling he was still there with her. She jumped across the bed and picked something up on the floor on the other side. He had never even seen a child act so unruly, jumping onto furniture to cut across the room. Her movements were like that of a wild creature yet to be domesticated. She ran back over to him and took hold of his sleeve, pulling him over to a table, where she pulled a small cloth bag out of a large cloth bag. She emptied it out the bag full of odd items. He could not believe she had just tugged at the king's robe to lead him, as if she was his superior.

"These are the things that I carry around with me for convenience in my pocketbook. Choose something and I'll tell you what it is," she instructed King Louis.

He picked up the first item hesitantly. Elora supposed he feared the unknown. "That is a cellular phone. You know how I told you of telephones. This is a type that you need no connection to a wire. It uses a satellite from outer-space." Elora turned it on. "You see it stores people's names, so I have only to choose who I want to call and I can talk to that person. Here listen, this is a voicemail from my friend Anne."

Elora put it to his ear. He listened intently to the little purple box that was speaking a message in English quite clearly. It spoke quickly in a feminine voice, "Hey Elora, I was thinking as soon as your organic-chem. class is over lets got out for drinks with Rob and the guys. His new roommate Kyle is hot; you gotta get me some details about him. Later, babe!"

"Elora, should I speak to it?"

"No, this is only a recording, she is not really on the other line."

He did not understand and Elora conceded she did not think she could make him.

He next picked up a soft item wrapped in a material that made a crinkling sound in his hand. When Elora saw what he had picked up this time she burst out into laughter. Her laugh reminded him of the soft sound of rain falling into the lake. She cleared her throat. "Louis, you're holding a feminine product. It is called a tampon. Women use it when they get their period and…"

He cut her off, "What is a _period_?" The English words she used he had never heard before in all his studies. He still looked at her puzzled and questioned its purpose.

Elora cracked up laughing again. She blushed and leaned her face into her cupped hand, unable to look at him being so filled with embarrassment. "I don't want to lecture you on the facts of life.–How can I say this delicately?–There is not a way to put it delicately. A period is a woman's monthly menstruation. This tampon used to soak up the blood."

"Oh," is all he could say with his eyes bulging. He knew such bodily functions were true, but no one had ever spoken so bluntly of it before. Actually he had never had such an odd conversation as this with anybody.

"Dare I ask what this is?" He would only point to the other rod shaped item.

"This is a good one, a mini flashlight. You know how I was telling you about electricity and with it you get light. Well this is a perfect example." Elora pointed it in a dark corner, pushed the button, and the light when on.

Louis flinched. He took the item and pressed the button and it created light wherever he pointed it. The lighting device was like a little torch without the flame. "I never would have believed it. These, you say, are everywhere in 2009?"

She explained they lighted rooms, yards, streets, businesses and that candles were only used for decoration or to fragrance rooms. Now that was progress, he thought.

She then showed him a small folding case that she said she stored her money in. Yet her money was made of paper, yet she said it was valuable. He followed up by asking if paper was an expensive commodity in the future. Yet she said it was not the paper itself that was valuable, but what was printed on it. There were also flat _plastic_ rectangles that she used in place of money. These means of currency were certainly worthless here, unfortunately for her. She had these all of these amazing futuristic objects, which could not be shown to anyone here and were materially worthless. So actually she was a pauper. He would then have to absorb the cost of her living at his Versailles if she were to stay.

"Sometimes to believe with conviction we must begin by doubting.–You are right it is difficult to believe, but strangely I do believe you. How would it be possible to make up something that extensive?" King Louis stated, tapping her soft hand.

Louis decided he must fabricate an identity for her. He could have patents of nobility created, as well as baptismal records from the church. She would have to be of noble blood if he was going to keep her as close to him as he wanted. Elora Roux was now the Comtesse de Valréas. His grandfather and hers had been friends in their youth, but hers had moved to the Americas to increase his fortune. Her entire family died of the same fever that nearly killed her this past year. She came to live here at Versailles because he was now her only guardian and she his royal ward. She has a good name, but little money.

Elora agreed to go along with his idea.

She looked down at herself and commented she better get dressed. She certainly could not go walking about in this palace wearing her _pajamas_. He instructed her she could change her apparel behind a carved cedar floor screen in the corner the room. She took her bag from the floor and disappeared behind the screen. He hardly knew what to expect when she would reappear.

"Hey, King Sir," she yelled from behind the screen. "I need to use the bathroom after this. Where is it?"

"You need to take a bath?"

"I'm trying to say I need to use the toilet, loo, lavatory, restroom, latrine, the john."

They were both speaking English, but it seemed like it was a different language. "Even now I know not what you suggest."

"I need to pee…urinate…relieve myself…"

"Oh I see, the privy." Considering his embarrassment from her crude question he could barely get the words from his lips. "I will send you with a servant girl in a moment."

Elora came out from behind the floor screen. She bent forward and tied her hair up. His first reaction was to cry out and stagger over when he saw her attire, but he contained his countenance. She should have just remained in her nightclothes. He wondered if she was half as insane a she looked. And where was her skirt? She wore trousers like a man. Her clothes were inappropriately skin-tight over her feminine figure, yet remarkably alluring to the male eye. Then he saw her sparkling green eyes looking at him for approval.

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"It is amazing; you seem to look beautiful in anything, even in these clothes."

Elora looked down at the pair of low-rise flare jeans and the cotton tee shirt she was wearing. This was her last clean outfit and the shirt was pretty new. She questioned, in a slightly defensive tone, what was wrong with what she was wearing. Though his tone had been nice, his body language screamed disapproval much more than an overprotective father's stare, unwilling to let his little girl grow up.

"Are those trousers or undergarments you wear? Do you not have any gowns?"

"You want me to wear a dress? I never wear dresses except on the holidays. Besides I don't have any with me."

"I shall see to that," added King Louis as if talking to himself. "Put on that robe for the time being."

Elora went to the chair where rested a long royal blue, puffy sleeved robe and put it on. She knew she was dressed perfectly, but it was just this sexist century. She should be freely able to wear pants anywhere wanted, no matter what century it was. First she would give up pants, then she would have to give up her civil rights.

"The first thing you need a gown befitting to your stature. Then I will have you publicly introduced at court. I have sent word to the royal couturière; she is expecting you. A servant will take you to her."

What the heck was a couturière, she wondered? It sounded like someone who made naughty underwear. She liked his eloquent phrasing. She had stature…and he was going to buy a dress for her that was befitting. He said he was going to introduce her to some people too. Between a new outfit and meeting new people in a palace she was starting to feel like Cinderella.

The king pulled the cord by his bed, but she heard no ring or anything. A moment later a woman entered through a door she had not even noticed was there. The door itself was like part of the wall. The woman made a curtsy to them. She wondered if she would be wearing an outfit like hers. It was a multi-layered, floor-length gown of coarse, dull-colored material.

"A servant's entrance, that's cool.–Who is she?"

"She has been serving you this day. She speaks no English, so I will need to find you a more permanent servant you can communicate with; to some extent at least."

Elora thought it funny that Louis assumed she only knew English. Walking over to the blonde girl she said, "_Merci beaucoup de me tirer d'embarras aujourd'hui. Je suis Elora Roux. Je vais être resté ici pendant quelque temps. Quel est votre nom__?_" She held out her hand to the girl.

"Suzanne is my name, my lady. You speak French well." Instead of shaking her hand, Suzanne bowed putting her head to it. That was not what Elora intended, but she could work with her on that later.

He questioned how she spoke French so well.

Elora replied to him in English, as she packed up her stuff back into her pocketbook, that her mémé had come to the United States from Quebec when she was ten and lived in the French community in New York City throughout her youth. Her mémé had been living with her family since she was a baby. When Elora and her brothers were growing up she always spoke French to them as far back as she could remember.

She learned all her French from her. She admitted she was not really good though. They never had lengthy, adult conversations in French. She also severely lacked that France-French accent that the king had. She knew now she probably should not have opened her big mouth. Now that the king knew she knew French he wanted her to speak it all the time. She was not partial to agree with him at first. She had always thought she was pretty good, but hearing the king's pronunciation and especially his vocabulary she was not sure anymore. This was the perfect chance for her to refine her knowledge of the language in any case. She decided to make an effort at it, but she could not guarantee perfection.

He was quite insistent that no one must see her leave his room, telling her this multiple times. He wanted the courtiers to believe she arrived at Versailles like all others. Suzanne would escort her to his privy via the servant's halls, so again she would remain unseen. Afterward, the servant girl would then escort her to the couturière. Then she would formally be presented to him in front of the courtiers.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Suzanne guided her out of the king's bedchamber. She was led into a room adjoining the king's chamber. The servant put down in a chair with a silver pot with gold filigree below. Elora asked for a few minutes alone for privacy's sake. She cringed at the thought; this is what she was reduced to now. They had bedpan-like pots to pee in, made of gold, but no toilet paper.

The girl merely nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Elora did her business and exited the room. Suzanne was standing right outside the door waiting for her. They walked through the passages, taking lefts and rights, passing many servants on the way. It was very quiet; no one there really spoke at all. Either they were unhappy with their work or they were not allowed to chatter on the job.

They came to a large, bare room. There were shelves stretched across every wall going from the high ceiling to the floor. There were several windows and mirrors, spreading a good amount of light into the room.

Elora was introduced to Madame Desiree. She was a plump woman of her height, which was about five feet four inches. Her brown eyes seemed to dart at everything that moved and meticulously examine it. Her hair was a dull brown with a few gray streaks, which could not conceal her transition to middle age.

"The king says you need to have a gown immediately for your presentation to the court this morning. This is terribly short notice, but whatever the king commands I shall provide."

She took a look at the dressmaker's cold face and wished the king were still with her. He was much more friendly. Madame Desiree wore this floor-length, lacey black and white gown. It looked heavy and hot. She really hoped that was not the kind of dress she was going to have to wear.

She was introduced to Marie, Madame Desiree's assistant. Marie was a stringy girl of about ten. Her brown hair was tied back in a bun like her superior, but it had been teased a bit which made her appearance seem less severe than Madame Desiree.

Marie began to take off Elora's robe and her mouth shaped a shocked O, when what was underneath was revealed. "My lady, are these your traveling clothes? Are such under-layers the fashion in your land?"

Madame Desiree had been sorting through some sample of fabrics when Marie spoke. Madame then walked right over and slapped the girl across the face. "It is not your place to question a courtier's appearance! You keep quiet and take those measurement as I asked.–Comtesse, I do apologize for her impudence." When Madame turned to face her she dropped the fabrics she had piled in her arms.

"I'm guessing your thinking about how weird I look. It's a funny story…but I doubt by the looks on your faces you will find it funny at all.–All my clothes were lost somewhere between leaving home and coming here. I know it is inappropriate, but I have nothing else to wear at present."

"Yes, yes, well that is where I fit into your funny story."

After her measurements were taken Marie brought a pile of clothes over to her. There was a corset that went from her hips to her breasts. It was so tight she felt as if it was breaking her ribs. It was a chore just to inhale.

"Ohhh!" Elora cried when the last lace of the corset was tightened and her back cracked.

"You will get used to it." Madame Desiree tied the laces in a nice bow.

"I will never get used to it!" Elora venomously declared.

The corset was also like a super push-up bra; her breasts never looked so big and swollen, which she did not mind too much. Her breasts were never particularly huge, but a B-cup was a good size. Now she looked like a C-cup for sure.

She was given no underwear, just loose-fitting silk pants with lots of lace that went down to her knees. There were also silk stockings that were held up by silver lace garters. Then they put a slip and two skirts on her. Her silk underclothes were soft and quite comfortable. There was a bony skirt that tied around her waist that would make her skirts look fuller. Marie called it a farthingale. Elora really wished they would keep it simple. She did not need a lot of frills, but then she would not be playing the part of comtesse correctly. The Comtesse de Valréas had worn dozens of dresses like this in her life. She was a spoiled rich girl. If only Elora's parents would have spoiled her a little bit she might have a better idea on how play this part.

She stepped into a periwinkle blue silk gown. The gown was pulled back by two pink bows to reveal an exquisite, cloth-of-silver damask underskirt. It had ruffled lace sleeves that were layered from her shoulder to her elbow with a small pink bow between every few layers. The scoop collar was composed of intricate lace with a pink bow at the center. The gown even had a train that dragged about three feet in length.

The couturière left the room post haste to get to work making the rest of the Comtesse's wardrobe. Marie remained to fix her hair. She mentioned how her short hair would be a challenge to fancy up. She pinned up Elora's hair, braided multiple strands, and somehow worked them all into a fancy looking layered bun. A lace ribbon was then tied around it. The few of the shorter strands she had left loose and dangling at the front she now pinned back toward the bun with a lovely gold clip, decorated with chips of blue topaz and diamonds inlayed.

She had wanted to put her in a more elaborate up-do, but there was not enough length for that and this was the best she could do in such a time constraint. The only lie Elora could think of to explain her short hair was rather silly. "My younger brothers were real pranksters and thought it would be funny to cut my hair while I was sleeping and here I am. I have grown used to it though and actually prefer it to longer hair. It's much easier to manage."

Suzanne returned and complemented her mistress on how fine she looked. She led her out of the main halls of the chateau. Now that Elora had been properly dressed up other people could now see her. Only minutes ago she had believed King Louis was crazy for not letting her wear what she wanted here, but now seeing the elegant figures of ladies and gentlemen that gracefully glided up and down these extravagant halls, she now understood. She would have been laughed out of the chateau, or perhaps even worse. She was not even sure if the inquisition was still going on. One false move or passé outfit and she could be pegged as a witch or worse.

As they walked down the hall, Elora's mind was in a whirlwind. The halls were just as fancy as Louis' rooms had been. Her room at home she had thought was great and had everything, but in seeing Louis' room; she could not get over all the gold. Her own bed was just wooden; his was plated in real gold. She searched her blurred memory of last night. Most of that night was foggy; as if she had been extremely drunk, but she knew she had not been drinking. She had returned home that night and was so upset she prayed to God to save her. She could not remember why was she had she been so upset though. Did she get in a fight with her roommate? Had she been in a car accident? Had she gotten a bad grade in school? She was so frustrated with herself. She could not remember! She could not understand what was wrong with her. What had happened last night?

This phenomenon must have been the result of her prayer to God. She had asked Him to take her away. She never prayed with so much faith and need. She had prayed with her whole heart and her wish came true. Remembering how upset she had been, even though she did not know why, made her desire not to remember what had happened. There must have been a reason she did not remember, so God's will be done.

Suzanne instructed her what she was to do at her court introduction when she was presented to the king. There was a very strict etiquette at court put in place by King Louis. One could be insulted merely by an inappropriate glance or addressing someone improperly.

She was led to the Apollo Room. Suzanne stopped at the entrance and curtsied. She was on her own from here. This was her chance. She had to make a good impression, if not for her sake for Louis'. He was being very kind letting her live there and providing that nice dress she was wearing.

She saw the king sitting on a large silver throne on a dais, though she hardly recognized him. He was lavished in red and gold silk with frilly lace and knee-high tights. He was even wearing high-heeled shoes. His hair was so teased it proofed out like he had been electrocuted. If she did not know she was in 1662 she would have thought he was a fag in that getup. She had to forcefully hold in a giggle. She was the one out of place here not him. So she just had to accept that he wore lace bows on his heeled shoes.

There must have been a hundred courtiers of all ages standing around; all as lovely as the ones she had seen walking the halls. A man dressed in a gold and amber uniform with the emblem of France on his tunic came to her and took her hand, bringing her forward from the crowd. He said, "May I present Elora Roux, the Comtesse de Valréas, Your Majesty."

Elora did not think she would be called on so quickly. She was sure to follow Suzanne's instructions to the letter as she walked across the room toward the king. Her eyes were pasted to the wood floor. She stopped approximately five feet from the edge of the carpeted dais. She gave a curtsy all the way to the ground, crossing her leg behind the other and easing down to her knees. She had to bow low enough so that her head was not above the king's shoes. She patiently waited until the king said, "You are welcome at my court, Comtesse. You may rise."

She rose very carefully; afraid she was going to falter. She sighed deeply and stood back up. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she spoke as clearly as she could, trying to imitate Suzanne's accent, as she had just been coached only minutes ago. She backed away from him, with her eyes still glued to the floor; afraid to look up and see the courtier's faces. Had she done well or not? Were they smiling or shaking their heads with shame? Had they noticed her queer accent? Whether they were staring at her or not she felt every eye on her.

Even though her dress was make of fine silk and she had more lace on her now than she had ever worn in her whole life put together, she still felt inadequate about her appearance. Now seeing the elegance of Versailles and its inhabitants she wondered if she could ever fit in.

After she had backed into the crowd another name was called. The Marquis de…something; she was not really paying attention. She looked to her left and her right at the courtiers and their attention was now focused on the Marquis. And if they had looked at her as closely as they were now looking at him it was what she feared. She hoped they had not noticed anything wrong with her.

The jewelry she saw on the men and women alike was enough to make her feel she was out of her league. All of these people there must have been millionaires. What would she possibly have in common with them? Could she really fool them all into thinking she was nobility; one them? King Louis did not seem too worried about it. She should have told him she just wanted to be a servant at Versailles and blend in with those who were more likely in her class.

About ten more courtiers and officers were presented after her. She found Suzanne when the ceremony ended. Suzanne passively scolded her for not staying longer in the room and making connections with the other courtiers; for that was the most important mission for courtiers at Versailles.

Elora could only shrug her shoulders. She was already beginning to tire from the day's events. She wanted to go to her bedroom, but was not sure if she had been assigned one yet.

Suzanne was quick to inform her the king personally selected her room himself. It was a fine chamber and in the chateau itself. Suzanne said she was lucky there was a room available in the chateau. These chambers were highly in demand and quite expensive. Only those courtiers who held coveted positions serving the king or those who were part of the royal line lived in the chateau itself. Most courtiers, unless very wealthy or very well connected, had to reside in apartments outside of the chateau's gates, this included the king's other wards. She followed her servant through the chateau again. They walked down a long sunlit hallway; Suzanne called it the Hall of Mirrors. The windows adjacent to the gardens were open and the warm breeze blew in the scent of roses and orange blossoms. They quickly passed through that lovely hall, went around a corner, and up the stairs.

They finally came upon her room-to-be. It was an elegant, room with purple velvet brocaded drapes, hardwood floors with the detail of inlay, and a grandly painted cathedral ceiling with gilded panels. It had a small fireplace and a high-standing arched window. There was a tall wardrobe, a trunk, a desk, a loveseat, and an armchair. The room really was not too large considering she was in a royal palace. It seemed a little smaller than her room at home.

She had just fallen into the queen-size feather bed when there was a scratching at the door. Did these people not invent knocking yet? Suzanne was still in the room and she answered it. Elora surprised to see it was a young boy. The king was requesting her presence for a private audience.

She thought he was so cute with his blonde curly hair. He was in puffy shorts and white tights, which added to his adorable appearance. Elora quickly got off the bed and followed the boy.

"They put you to work awfully young. How old are, sweetie?"

"I am called Leon Caussage, my lady. I am eight years of age. It was a great honor for me to become one of the king's valets. My father has no great title and if I am going to get my fortune wedding a lady I will need the king's favor."

"I see." Her brother, Wesley was only two years older then him, yet this kid acted twice his age. "You're eight and you're thinking about marriage? You're still very young. Take time and enjoy your youth. You'll be a grown up soon enough. And don't worry about money when you marry. Money doesn't bring happiness in a marriage; love does."

"I will just make sure only to fall in love with wealthy ladies."

"The heart does not always work that way."

"Mine will. Father depends upon it."

She loved him determined certainty. They arrived at the Hall of Mirrors encased in windows and mirrors. He told her she would need to wait here before the king would see her. Elora watched Leon scratch at the door to the king's council room and enter. She had never met such a serious child. Her brothers were quite the opposite little devils. They were always running around and screaming. No one could ever get a clear answer out of them.

The one hall in the middle of the chateau was wider than the length of her house and her house was not a small home either. It was one of those three-floored colonial houses with a big garage off to the side. This hall was extraordinary. The parquet hardwood floors were laid in a decorative diamond shaped pattern. There were regal chandeliers hanging high above her every ten feet. The arched ceiling was covered in paintings. All the furniture was solid silver; statues of women holding a lighted candlestand, chairs, tables, and even the vases. On her right there were arched windows. On her left there were niches with beautiful marble statues. There were seventeen mirror-archways to match the seventeen arched windows on the left side of the room. This was certainly her favorite room she had seen so far.

Leon suddenly reappeared and summoned her to the king. She quickly followed behind the quick-paced boy to the council room. When she entered King Louis stood up from his desk, obtrusively gaping at her.

It was a large room, decorated in blue and silver. There were stools along the length of the room, on both sides and there was several armchairs surrounding a large wooden desk where the king sat in the largest, throne-like chair. She thought that desk would look great in her father's study. He was a great reader and liked a few hours to himself every night to devote to that passion.

"How do you think that went? Did people buy it? Do I fit in with such an elegant dress?" Elora asked him with a shy smile.

As she made a graceful pirouette Louis came out from behind his desk, breathless. "You are more exquisite than ever before; more alluring than anyone known to me."

"I'm too overdressed. With these bows and frills I feel like a jazzed up poodle."

"But you look like an angel."

"What I said under my breath when Madame Desiree tightened my corset wasn't angelic."

King Louis laughed. "My word, Elora, what a sense of humor you have. Just speaking of underclothes keeps me entertained."

She insisted that these clothes were all too fine for her taste. She told him she normally liked things simple. Less was more. Yet as she spoke it was as if she was talking to herself. He was hearing nothing she said. His eyes were plastered to her boobs. Men, they were all the same!

He walked around the desk beside her, his soft step barely making a sound as his feet brushed across the blue carpet. "Elora, did anyone ever tell you that your hair is the most beautiful colour? It reminds me of autumn fires burning in the night." He grasped a single curl, wrapping it about his finger.

Oh, so now he was looking at her hair. Elora could not believe he had only known her for a few hours and he was already making a pass at her! Whether she believed it true or not he had just paid her a Shakespearian-like compliment, so she was compelled to be nice. "No one has ever said it in such a lovely way."

"Everything I could ever say about you would be lovely." He advanced toward her, holding out his arms. "I would kiss you now."

Elora stepped away from the king's open arms. She should have noticed it before. This is why he was being so nice to her. This was a guy who was only after one thing. What was wrong with this guy? Was he that horny?

"Woe, hold up sparky," she chuckled nervously. "I'm not kissing you. I don't even know you."

"I am the king, you _will_ do as I say."

"Don't tell me what to do." She poked his chest with every word.

He ignored her rebuke. In one hasty movement he grabbed her at the waist and pulled her close to him. Such a forceful motion took her aback, she did not react as quickly as she normally would have.

"Let go of me." She felt him grasp her tighter. A sudden feeling of terror overcame her in that brief moment. She did not quite understand this feeling. It was his grasp on her, which made her feel utterly powerless, which led to her feeling lightheaded and even a little nauseous. What was happening to her? All she knew was she had to get out of his grasp. "I'm warning you!"

"What could a little woman like you do to the king?"

"King or not, you'll be sorry." Her defiance shined brightly in her eyes.

"I could arrest you and even execute you. Is that the kind of future what you really want here?"

He held her even tighter now and she really felt nauseous. "Try to kiss me and you'll find out."

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King Louis then leaned in to kiss her, thinking her refusal a maiden fear. The moment he closed his eyes Elora attacked with a right-handed punch to his left cheek and then jammed her knee into his crotch. He instantly crouched forward, falling to the floor.

He could not even breathe, no matter yell for the guards. Should he even call for the guards? What would his men think of him beaten to the ground by a woman? He did not even imagine a woman could punch. He had only expected a tight slap on the cheek. In the midst of his anguish he heard her screaming at him.

"Who do you think you are?" she yelled in English. "Don't you dare ever grab me or even touch me like that again!–I don't need you. I won't stay here if I don't want to."

Louis was finally beginning to recover. He should have been furious, but he was not. He was getting the feeling from Elora that he deserved that punishment. She seemed truly fearful of his touch, though he could not imagine why. He finally pulled himself up to a standing position with the help of a nearby chair. Noticing the tears in Elora's eyes, perhaps she was not as strong as she wanted to appear to be.

"Isn't it a gentlemanly courtesy here to ask the girl's permission before trying to kiss her?"

"I am king. I have never needed to ask. All women desire my attention."

"Oh get over yourself!–Despite your annoying arrogance God obviously had some purpose sending me to you, but at this moment I can't imagine what He was thinking. If we're going to continue this charade you can't pull this crap. If we're to be friends I need you to promise me you won't do that again."

He never said he desired friendship from her. Somehow she had gotten that impression though. If saying he were her friend would palliate her violent nature, then he would go along with her for now. So he promised her that they would only be friends.

Elora accepted his affirmation of friendship and it was enough to ease her anger. She walked over to him and lightly touched his left cheek.

"It's pretty red; you might bruise a little. This will not look good to all of your friends. Me coming in and you going out with a black eye. How can you explain it?–We'll have to think of something."

Elora began to pace back and forth across the council room. He had never imagined a woman could ever throw that good of a punch, thus leaving a mark. He was lacking in ideas on how to explain to his court that this woman standing before him had attacked their king. Once Philippe had been playing with him when they were children and pushed him to the ground. It had all been in fun, but Louis had his knee scrapped and Phillipe was ultimately punished for injuring France's dauphin. No one had been violent with him since, until today.

She snapped her fingers and asked him to kneel on the floor, right next to the armchair. King Louis hesitated, giving her a doubtful look. She had an idea, but was it a good idea. She assured him he could trust her and she would not hit him again. She kicked up the corner of the rug behind the kneeling king.

"All right, here we go.–Guards! Guards, come here at once!" In an instant two guards ran in. "The king has tripped over the rug and hit his face! Help him up!"

Both men fumbled to help the king stand. "You are injured," one guard said. "I will summon the Royal Physician at once."

"There is no need," said the king, playing along with Elora's rouse. "I simply hit my face on the damn arm of this chair here. Have these carpet edges nailed to the floor by the day's end." King Louis dismissed the guards.

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There came a sudden sound of yelling outside the bedchamber and a moment later a man pushed his way through the guards and flung the doors open. Elora had been quite startled at the banging on the doors and jumped back as an austere looking man rushed into the room, jerking a guard from his arm. She saw, even though he was older, he had handsome auburn hair that was long and puffy, like King Louis' style. His face was oval, with a pickdevant beard. His squinting eyes were so dark she could not differentiate the iris from the pupil. His lips were curvy and outrageously small. His nose was long and a bit wide matching his long face. Amid all his intimidating features, his height was not one of them. She figured he was related to Napoleon, or rather Napoleon would be related to him. With such an expression of outrage and disgust he looked like the very devil.

She looked to the king to see what he was going to do. If he were king like he said he was then this man would not be a threat, but what if this man was his father or something. Then she could be in trouble. The man made a quick bow of the head to the king. Assessing the scene first looking at him then her then his reddened eye. He then moved towards her with a menacing step and his finger pointed at her.

"This is an imposter!"

She moved behind the king, more than naught scared of this man coming at her. Louis rolled his eyes. The guards apologized; saying they could not stop him. Louis waved the guards out with an elegant flick of the wrist. The man did not wait for him answer.

"She is likely a spy sent by England. I suggested to Your Majesty they might send a woman. I advise we put her in the Bastille and maybe we can get something out of her," he said with fire in his eyes. "What of her title? I looked it up in the archives there is no patent of nobility for Valréas. And her accent; could they at least send a spy proficient in our language! She is likely nothing more than a painted lady of the night!"

He did not just call her a prostitute, did he? He seemed to her a ruthless and despicable person. Now insulted, she gained courage, as anger rose in her gut. She spoke before King Louis had a chance to defend her, "You have no right to criticize me," she yelled angrily in French walking towards the man. "Especially with archaic innuendos! Who do you think you are anyway? You should mind your own damn business, you misogynist pig."

"How dare you speak to me in that manner! You will show me the respect my title merits.–Now where did you come from?" Colbert blared as he took another threatening step toward her, but she did not budge.

She mimicked his tone, "I don't see how where I come from is any of your business."

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King Louis was finally able to take control of the situation. He was afraid Elora might punch Colbert in the face too and that would be disastrous. Hearing her speak in French still took him quite taken aback. This had been the third time he had heard her use his language yet it still seemed awkward. Elora Roux could speak French very well, but had an accent he had never heard before today.

"Colbert, please do not make degrading accusations. She is who I say she is and I say she is the Comtesse de Valréas. That should be sufficient at present. I gave strict orders that no soul was to enter my council room. You have disobeyed your king. I am most displeased. You are now dismissed, leave my sight."

Colbert stomped out of the room still looking very upset.

"Well, you have a sharp enough tongue, Elora Roux." King Louis was stunned with her daring and uncouth remarks to Colbert. She had no idea about court etiquette and protocol. She had Colbert's complex person pegged, he was as much a misogynist as he had ever seen. Many courtiers feared merely his angry glance, but Elora literally stood up to him. He wondered what exactly they were teaching girls in the future.

He could barely remember where exactly their conversation had been at when they were interrupted. He took this opportunity in the silence to invite her to join him for dinner. She accepted quickly, which made him remember in all the chaos of the day since waking her he had forgotten to feed her. He was surprised her stomach had not yet induced her to ask about mealtime before he brought it up into conversation.

As soon as they sat in the small dining hall the steaming food was brought out to them. What was brought before them was hardly a lunch, more like a feast. There was sliced roast beef and pink ham, mussels steamed in a white wine and topped with a Dijon mustard sauce, and cod flavored with creamed sherry, and capon in a lemon ginger sauce. For vegetables there was stuffed tomatoes, peas, and sliced zucchini with onions.

The servants put a helping of each dish onto his and Elora's plate. She ate the entirety of the food on her plate, when his was only half eaten. Good God was she incredibly unsophisticated. She even held her fork in the wrong hand. Her fork was far too filled. And her napkin was rarely used.

Elora leaned into the table and took for herself another slice of the pink roast beef and a spoonful of the peas. He stared at her with a gaping mouth. What did she think the servants were standing in the room for? That slight crudeness impressed him in a way. It made her seem honest, like she was not holding back any feelings.

"Comtesse, you need not rush. The plate will not be taken away from you."

She swallowed her piece of fish and cleared her throat with wine. "You are forgetting this is my first meal of the day and I'm starving."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

"Oh, this is incredibly beautiful!" Elora exclaimed, as her curls gently bounced in the breeze. She could hardly believe it was still April. "It is much warmer here and the soft breeze is so refreshing."

As they viewed the chateau from the front she got dizzy circling around, looking at its immensity. She laughed and rested her hand on his arm to balance herself. There were lines of people on horses and in carriages seeking entrance to the chateau stretching down the road as far as the eyes could see. She loved how there was no trace of roaring car engines or horns blowing in the air. There was only a resonating sound of horse's hooves clattering along the road and the courtiers chatting to each other through the open windows of their carriages. The language they spoke was French, but she had never heard so much of it spoken at once in her entire life and thus was a little overwhelmed by it. She knew living in a French-speaking country was going to be difficult.

The chateau itself was three sides of a square, with a wing coming off each side. The chateau's length must have been a mile long. It was three stories, the outside walls were made of a pale, honey-colored stone and the roof looked like black slate. There were two courtyards separated by railings with arched columns. The outer courtyard was all stone laid and the inner courtyard was marble laid, which was the entrance for the more important guests. She had never imagined anything to such a caliber as this.

King Louis was not hesitant to admit his chateau was quite impressive. He described his grounds that consisted of fourteen thousand eight hundred twenty acres. The enclosing walls were twenty-seven miles in length. There were one-hundred thousand trees, four-hundred thousand flowers, and dozens of fountains. The chateau had seven hundred rooms, thirty-five hundred windows, sixty-seven staircases, forty-six hundred paintings, and eighteen hundred sculptures; all of which the king was able to describe in perfect detail.

"I wanted to create heaven here on earth. This is my celestial city."

"Wow," she said below her breath. When she saw King Louis' grin she regained her composure. She assumed she had him the reaction he was aiming to get. "I mean...I suppose it's impressive."

The king's conversation leaned now towards curiosity about her age. She wondered his motives behind his desire to know. She knew she should not be so suspicious of his motives; it was probably just his anxiety and wanting to make conversation. He actually thought she was sixteen, which she could hardly believe. It had been four years since she was so young. He said he did not think he had ever met a maid of nineteen. From that comment she could only again imagine why God had sent her to such an ancient place.

Her birthday had been just two weeks ago; only two more years to go before she was the big two-one. Finals were only three weeks away. She retraced her entire memories of the yesterday. The timeline of the day was very clear to start, but became blurred by night. Yesterday had been her last day of school before spring break, something every college student looks forward to. Unfortunately three of her girlfriends had gone to Cancún. She remembered packing to go home. What did she do that evening though? Her mind kept going blank. The very last thing she remembered was lying down in her own bed and praying, so she had made it home. If she only had her planner with her here she would know what she did. But she must have taken it out of her duffel bag last night before she went to bed.

Had she seen Rob last night? Rob…his existence had escaped her until this moment. Her boyfriend of the past four years, how could she have forgotten? She had loved him once, but not anymore. He had been angry with her ever since she told him she was not going to transfer to his college in Boston; she was happy at Brandeis. He had desperately wanted her to join him at his college in Boston all of freshman year. Going to school and barely seeing Rob did not cause her much heartache, more like it was a relief not to have to see him and talk with him every day. That was how she knew that their relationship was no longer what it had been. Rob was that breed of popular that only comes with being the star quarterback and pitcher in high school. She had nabbed him before his stardom and clung to him as he soared through the years of rising high school popularity.

Dating him the first year he had been so sweet and quiet and smart. As his popularity rose his personality altered to one of those simple-minded jocks. The change was too true to be an exaggeration. His mind turned toward everything superficial about himself and how he perceived her. She could not understand why he still dated her through the years. She was not the jock's girlfriend type. She could not imagine what he said about her to the guys when she was not around. With the end of sophomore year looming over them in the not so distant future she had wanted to break up with him for several months now. They barely saw each other more than twice a week anymore.

"Elora, where have your thoughts taken you? I am feeling quite neglected at this moment."

"I was thinking about my boyfriend." Just clarifying what was a boyfriend was enough to exhaust her patience. Husband… definitely not. Fiancé…Rob wished. Courter…not sure what that was exactly.

Determined to change the subject from Rob, she questioned his age, for he did look quite young to be a king. Of course he took offence, assuring her he was nearly to be twenty-five. She apologized, not meaning to offend him. Now she knew he was sensitive about that topic. Perhaps many had criticized him because of his young age and his capability of ruling a country. She thought twenty-four was a perfectly nice age, king or not. Whenever she thought of kings though, she had always seen this picture in her mind of an older man, like King Lear.

He wanted to know what pastimes she participated in, in the future. She spoke of college and her part-time job at a doctor's practice, which kept her very busy. She was taking pre-med classes with the determined pursuit of becoming doctor herself. King Louis could not understand her position at school. It was supposedly only a man's profession to be a doctor. He was so narrow-minded. She gave the king the shock of his life speaking of how women had the choice to partake in all positions that men had.

"A physician!" Louis practically choked on his own breath. "How ridiculous, a female physician. Who invented this notion? Women are not capable of such intelligent thought."

King Louis really had no idea how wrong he was on this subject. She spoke of the Women's Suffrage Movement in the 1900's. "You greatly underestimate women. We gained the right of equality with men in all things. We wear pants like men, not dresses. We go to school, we have jobs, we vote, we live independently. No doors are closed to women."

"But a woman's duty is to cleave to her husband and children."

Her frustration with his was intensifying. Her "We still marry and have kids, but we can also have professions. Many women are working mothers."

"This is all useful information.–I know I am turning to another matter, but now that I think of it…Elora, something you told me earlier has been bothering me. Would you clarify it for me?"

Elora nodded, nearly afraid of what he would bring up next. It was tiring being the only one to defend three hundred forty seven years of progress.

"You said there was no king in France in the two thousands. How can that be?"

She drew her arm from his. "I'm not sure I should be telling you too much about your family's future. I feel like I'd be breaking some unwritten cosmic law."

"There can be no harm in it. I am firm in my desire to know. I must know."

She hesitated to answer him; the question was quite serious. She had not thought about this when she had been defending herself back in his bedroom. She merely informed him to keep herself from being sent into a prison or a nut house. Could telling him the future doing the future harm? She would have to risk it though. Her safety here was completely in Louis' hands and his good graces were vital until she was able to get back home. She probably should have thought more about that fact before she punched him in the face earlier, but that really could not have been helped. He was acting like a jerk and she had to put her foot down.

"Well, there are barely any monarchies in the twenty-first century. Sometime in the late seventeen-hundreds the French people were being treated very poorly. They got sick of the abuse, so they decided to act. The king and queen were beheaded in the French Revolution. They weren't really wicked people, but they were definitely bad rulers. They lost touch with the people of France. They lost their heads and France became a Republic. "

"This is the future of France, _my country_. You say all of this so matter-of-factly; it is infuriating! You speak of my family as if they were completely responsible for their own demise."

"In a way they were responsible."

"How would you know? Did you stop there before coming to sixteen-sixty-two?"

"Hey, don't give me an attitude." Elora felt her temper rising, as her gown began to feel tighter, like her anger was building up to burst forth out of her corset. "I'm just answering your question. And I know because of history books. They were stuck up assholes, who treated their people like shit! I don't blame the French for their actions, though it was quite gruesome. If I had been there I would have backed up the revolution!" she yelled.

At this point King Louis had a devilish grin on his face. "Do you know I could have you imprisoned for this? It is treason to argue with the king."

Not at all amused she said, "You know, why don't you. I would rather be locked in a cell than continue this argument!"

His anger towards her was intolerable. She did not want to speak nor look at King Louis anymore today. She lifted her skirt and turned towards the chateau, preparing to escape his company.

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Prince Phillipe had been sitting alongside the Grand Canal reading when he spotted his brother, King Louis walking in his direction. Though today in his afternoon constitutional around the gardens he was not followed by his regular group of fawning courtiers. Instead, a rather striking young lady was on his arm. He could tell she was fresh and new to court because of her wonder-struck face and stance as she toured the gardens with the king. He had rarely seen Louis so engaged in a lady's conversation. She was chattering away, with her hands waving in the air as she spoke. As soon as her mouth closed Louis' was sure to open with an equally captivated remark.

The girl was beautiful with her red tresses and mature contours. As they grew closer he could make out the detail of her features. Her smile and expressions were so unguarded and sincere. From seeing her for only a few minutes he could see why his brother was so interested in her.

They passed by him, not acknowledging his presence, but likely not even noticing him. Their conversation soon turned from smiles and laughter to pensive looks to irate arguing. Philippe's curiosity was now overwhelming. He had to be introduced to her and moreover he wanted to know what they were arguing about.

He stood and began to walk toward them when the girl suddenly turned, ready to storm off. He was in her path though and now she noticed him. She stopped sharply in her tracks, meeting his gaze. He smiled and her scowl soon disappeared.

He asked Louis to introduce him to the lady. Louis' ill humor with him was obvious in his annoyed blink and silent nod. She shot an annoyed glance back to Louis, like she loathed the very sound of his voice as he said she was Elora Roux, the Comtesse de Valréas. She was his most recently endowed ward. He noticed Louis avoided saying from where she had come from and Philippe wondered why.

When Louis told the lady who he was his manner was dry and monotone. He was sure to point out that Philippe was in fact his younger brother, making it seem he was still merely a child. Louis seemed determined to be very clear to them both that the prince was to be leaving in a few days time for Italy to discuss a treaty.

Her reaction to meeting him was honest excitement and friendly smiles. He had not yet heard her speak and he wanted to hear her sweet voice. When curtsying at their introduction the Comtesse de Valréas made one very critical error with her act of obeisance, her eyes never moved from the prince's as she curtsied. She had betrayed her identity without even knowing it, but Philippe had noticed.

Elora Roux was singular and certainly no courtier. Where did she come from? He had never met a lady whose gaze was not fixed on the ground. This girl was different with an obvious secret pertaining to her past. Louis was in on it and he was sure that he would not tell him. Louis was never much of telltale, especially when purposely concealing something. He would decidedly keep a close watch on this lady. His interest had been ignited. He predicted it would only be a short time before he unraveled her secret.

"I did not mean to disturb your tête-à-tête, Comtesse. However I observed you from a distance; by your body language I saw you were rather irritated. What has my brother done to offend you so quickly?"

"If you must know, His Majesty asked me a question and since my answer was disappointing he chose to take his anger out on me. He was not only rude, but he threatened me and that I will never stand for."

She raised her brow angrily in Louis' direction. Philippe did all he could to hold in a chuckle. This lady seemed less than enchanted with Louis. She had no reverence for King Louis, as if she had the same sort of relationship with him as he. She saw his arrogance and did not play along with his games. Philippe had never seen such a reaction from a lady. Perhaps he would have a chance at this girl instead of Louis. He could barely hide his excitement.

"Brother, that was unfair of you." What could she possibly have said to anger Louis to such a degree? He had never seen a woman unraveled his brother's countenance such as this. Even now Louis' expression was still contrary and irate.

"Perhaps," King Louis said coldly.

He knew Louis did not like being addressed in such a manner, but he cared not. Philippe masterfully turned the conversation away from Louis by taking the lady's arm and continuing to walk along the path. Since the king had been in front of them it forced him to walk ahead. Thus he succeeded in partially excluding his brother from the conversation.

"Comtesse, is this your first time in Versailles?"

"Yes, actually this is my first time in France, as I'm sure you can tell by my way of speaking. I have come from America most unexpectedly."

"Does anything special bring you to Versailles?" asked Prince Philippe with great curiosity.

"God's will. I desired to start life anew and He opened the door for me."

"And through the door was Versailles. How very perfect for all of us. I am certain the life you begin here will be auspicious, Comtesse."

"I can only hope.–Thank you for your kindness, your highness. I'm happy to have met you."

Elora skipped ahead a few steps and took King Louis by the arm to stop him from walking. "Your Majesty, I am sorry if I upset you. I'm willing to forget this happened if you would too. We're just not used to each other yet. Building a sturdy friendship takes time. Please, let's still be friends."

"Certainly, Elora." Louis kissed her hand, which was the closest thing to apologizing he would ever do in public. Philippe could hardly believe what he had just seen between the two. She presumed so much to take the king's arm and insist on making amends in such a plain way.

"If you don't mind I would like to take a look around my new home. I am curious to view every room of this grand chateau. I'm sure I'll be seeing you both later on. Take care until then!" Elora curtsied to the royal brothers and turned back to the chateau.

They both stood watching in silence for a minute as she walking away from them. Her skirts blew toward the canal to her right, which made for a very picturesque scene.

"So Louis what is the truth about that girl?"

"It is exactly what I have said. No need to question further into her past. She has lost everyone in her life that she knew and loved. I will not allow you or anyone to press her about it. As she said, she wishes to begin a new life here and I plan to ensure that is what she gets."

"Louis, do you intend to have every woman you desire all to yourself? Besides she doesn't appear to like you very much. How exactly did you receive that injury to your royal cheek? I am imagining that little lady put up a fight to your advances. I don't recall that ever happening to you before. Is that why you still want her for yourself? You still intending to woo her?" He chuckled to himself for a moment. "She has your laces in a knot already. One moment you're red with anger, but as soon as she batted her eyes and touched your arm you folded like love-struck youth. I believe she holds more power over you then you will ever have over her."

"I have let you speak your peace, but remember my words as your king. I saw the way you were looking upon her. You will keep your distance from her. I do not want her touched by any man, especially you. She does not need to get mixed up with you. She is enough trouble all by herself. Do you understand my orders?"

"Do not worry, Brother. As you emphasized to the Comtesse, I will be leaving for Italy in three days time. I would never dare disobey your rule."

Louis had done it again. He had usurped another lady before he had a chance at her. He was fed up with Louis' attitude. He believed he would make a better king than his brother. The idea of taking the crown from Louis often crossed his mind.

Philippe was envious of Louis, of his power and of his seductive talents with the ladies. Of course, he had his choice of women too and he usually took advantage of the privilege. The women never really seemed like they regarded him as a lover though. All they cared about was that they might become a princess if they let the prince into their lives.

Philippe wanted a woman his brother had not yet picked over and who actually loved him. She had to be attractive, amiable, outgoing, clever, and diverse to take his interest. He had never known a woman who had all of those qualities. It seemed the only ladies who were clever with words were married already.

The Comtesse de Valréas' green eyes reminded him of the Marquise Florence De Rant. The marquise was a women five years his senior. It was her elegant mole above the left side of her lip that first attracted him. He loved that her caps always had dyed ostrich feathers, which was a daring fashion. She had gained a clever tongue from her many years living at court. It was easy for married women to be witty and outgoing because they had the security of a rich husband. Florence had lost her sweet and demure nature when she wed though. Thus was the way with all the married courtiers in his acquaintance.

Mademoiselle Jacqueline de Arden was presently his mistress. She was a virgin when he first took her. He suspected the only reason she succumbed to him was because of his royal stature. Phillipe tolerated her, but did not love her. She was beautiful with her black curls and delicate hands. She was amiable in the sense that she never disagreed with him and always seemed to foresee his desires. She bored him though because she never spoke unless he said something to her expecting a reply. He could tell at first meeting, this Comtesse was not going to be a bore.

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Elora went exploring through the three-floored chateau, going into nearly every room, soaking up all the beauty. She viewed business rooms, grand halls and ballrooms, and many apartments. The rooms were all vastly illustrious and ornate; though many of the bedchambers were locked.

There were a lot more people bustling around than she had imagined there would be in a palace. She felt pleasantly warm, but some rooms where the windows were not open were stifling. It was only the end of April, she wondered how hot it was going to get in this chateau in the upcoming months. She was going to miss air conditioning.

Every bedroom Elora entered seemed to have its own theme or colour to it. She not only surveyed bedrooms, she saw parlors and even halls with musical instruments and stages. It was all so grand. How exquisite things were in the chateau; it was almost heavenly. She imagined most people would think, if in her place, of how they would wish it all could be theirs. Elora liked it better not being hers because she thought its beauty was better appreciated when you know you will never have it for yourself.

She began to think about how much her life had changed from yesterday to today. A month earlier her burgeoning life appeared to be perfect. Her entire existence until then gracefully glided by, devoid of difficulty. She was merely nineteen years old, a dainty butterfly coming out of her cocoon. Her braces were off and her acne had vanished just in the past few years. She was third standing in her class and she was darn proud of it.

She really felt lucky in having a wonderful family. Her parents were still as in love as the day they married and that was over twenty years ago. Dad always kissed Mom before he left the house in the morning, she loved that. Then there were her two brothers, Damien was eleven and Wesley was nine, though they still behaved as if they were six. They were two years apart, yet they looked and acted so similar they could be twins. They always did the kind of things snotty little brothers do, like steal her stuff or annoy her about her boyfriend.

She went upstairs in the north wing and came to a small church. It was very quaint, fitting at most a hundred people. The stained glass at the altar of Christ on the cross, with the Virgin Mary weeping at his feet was breathtaking. Elora was glad she was in a Catholic country, so she could practice her religion freely. She did know it was going to be a little different because practices that were still in place here had been altered for her generation at the Second Vatican Council.

She had to be careful, remembering this was the 1600's, century of the witch craze. Her accent, mannerisms, and unconventional thinking would certainly make her stand out here. All the courtiers seemed like well-groomed, purebred Pomeranians and she was the only mutt in the group. It was not simply that she was not their equal in breeding, but she also came from a world that they could not possibly understand. She could be accused of being a witch any time from the slightest mistake on her part.

Elora knelt on a pew in the front row and silently prayed. She had so much to say to God.

"My child," the voice of an older man broke her concentration, startling her a little. It was the priest. "It has been a long while since I have seen a courtier engrossed in such fervent prayer.–I am Bishop to the King, Michel de Chagny."

She stood from the pew, feeling the stiffness in her knees from kneeling for so long. The priest looked her father's age and had his same honking French nose and olive skin.

"Hello, I am Elora Roux. Today is my first day at Versailles. I was exploring my new home and stumbled in here. Was I not supposed to be here during these hours?"

"Nay, the House of God is never closed to those who need it. I was merely astonished to see you here for such an extended time."

"What do you mean? I've only been here a half hour or so."

"No my child, you have been here two hours."

"Gee, it didn't feel like that long. It just felt so good to pray."

"Do you have anything you would like to confess or speak with me about?"

"Thank you for offering, Father, maybe another day. I really must be going, since so much time has passed. Somebody must be looking for me. It was wonderful to meet you, Father Michel."

"And I you, Mademoiselle."

After she left the church she continued through the throne room to the Hall of Mirrors. Louis had told her that he had the chateau built facing this specific direction, so when the sun rose in the morning it would face the chateau, covering it with its divine golden rays. The sun had begun to set, so there was little light coming in through the windows now.

Then Elora noticed the same gilded door she had exited from earlier. It especially stood out from the others not just because it was made of solid gold, but a baronial design was imprinted into it. This was King Louis' chamber, she recalled. There were guards dressed in black outfits with gold swords standing beside the door. She could not gain access to the one chamber she wanted to look at again. From the time she spent in Louis' chambers she had noticed his rooms far outshined the rest of the chateau. Maybe it was something special about the king's bedroom that brought her here.

She wondered if she could find her way back to her bedroom from here. Suzanne had guided her only a few hours ago, but she had still been in a sort of daze. Yet she still found her way down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom. She went right to her bed falling into the softness of the mattress.

Elora awoke to a knocking, no, more of a light tapping at her door. As she stood from bed she let out a soft moan. She had fallen asleep fully dressed and still wearing the suffocating corset. "Jeez, this corset is tight!–Yeah, come in."

Suzanne entered and wanted to assist her in getting changed for dinner. She rubbed her eyes in surprise thinking it had been morning. Suzanne was assigned as her servant and would assist her in everything she needed. She was grateful, for she feared she would need a great deal of help here in this world.

"Suzanne, you see I have no knowledge of how to live as a courtier in a royal chateau."

"I believe you will truly need my help then because Versailles is not simply the same as any other court life. It is far grander than any place the world has ever seen."

Elora was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed. She just wanted to go back to sleep. "Were you saying something about dinner, Suzanne?"

"Yes, I will help you dress for the evening." Suzanne opened up the great mahogany wardrobe and saw it was empty. "My lady, where are your gowns?"

"Can't I wear what I already have on for dinner?"

"Ahhh…" Suzanne hesitated. Her mistress really did need her help. "That's really not what ladies who live at Versailles choose."

"You think people would really notice? I haven't even met anybody yet."

Suzanne shook her head, unsure how to answer her mistress without being rude.

"Well, could I have my dinner in my room tonight?"

"Yes! That will do, my lady." This was appropriate for tonight, but what were they to do tomorrow? Wearing the same gown two days in a row would be even more scandalous than wearing the same one to the dinner festivities. "I will have a message sent to the king, saying you are unable to attend."

With Suzanne's assistance the gown came off quickly. As Suzanne loosened the laces of the corset she could feel her ribcage expanding and breath returned to her lungs. Dressed in her pajamas, she ate her dinner looking out her window at the dimly lit gardens. The many fountains continued to spray water, creating a soft, meditative ambiance. The soft yellow moonlight reflected off of the Grand Canal. Men and women paired up were walking through the gardens. The breeze carried to her the music playing across the chateau. Versailles was a heavenly place.

**Dear Readers, **

**I hope you have been enjoying The Celestial City. I just love Versailles' gardens, so you'll be reading a lot about them. I appreciate feedback so please review and let me know what you think!**

**L.B. Tempia**


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The next morning, to Elora's satisfaction she was still in France; meaning this obviously was not a twenty-four hour thing. When she was praying in the chapel yesterday she asked God if she could stay a bit longer. She did not want to go back home yet. She had this strange feeling that this was where she was supposed to be. There was something about two nights ago before she went back in time, something she could not remember. This was all because of that. Seventeenth-century France was the perfect vacation destination for her.

Suzanne entered the bedroom with her breakfast tray only moments after she woke. She hopped out of bed and set at the desk. There was so much food. The eggs were poached and served with a creamy wine sauce. There was thickly sliced honey ham, fresh cut strawberries, oatmeal, and milk. Her mom never cooked a breakfast like that at home.

"I need to see King Louis as soon as possible. How would I go about doing that?"

"There is court protocol, which are laws all must follow. Obtaining an audience with the king at this hour is nearly impossible, but I will petition your request. Though it might be several days before he can see you."

She popped a strawberry in her mouth. Several days, but she was in the same house as him. If she saw him walking down the hall she could just ask him then, but Suzanne said speaking to him then was a no-no too. She did not have to ask his permission yesterday when seeing him. Why could he not take five minutes out of his schedule for her? Well she would just go about doing what she wanted without asking him his permission. She assumed whatever she asked for would be okay with him.

She intended to continue taking her daily jogs while she was here. She usually took them in the afternoon after school, but she had seen how busy the gardens were at that time of day, so she knew she could not do it then. It was not like these people knew about cardiovascular exercises or ever even jogged in their life.

She asked Suzanne what time of day the gardens were empty and it seemed like the optimum time would be very early in the morning. So she asked Suzanne to wake her at five thirty every morning. In addition she requested that a bath be drawn for her when she got back from her jogs.

After Elora ate all she could from the tray, she picked up the blue dress she had worn yesterday lying on a nearby chair. She was about to ask her if she could help her get dressed when Suzanne grabbed the dress from her hand.

"No, no, not that one. The king is very generous; he had an entire wardrobe made up for you."

"He didn't!" Elora was shocked with his generosity.

"Yes Elora, he did." Suzanne opened the wardrobe that had been empty last night, but was now filled with a dozen gowns. She had snuck in with them early this morning before her mistress had woken. "You have pleased His Majesty.–I think, perhaps, before another day goes by I must speak with about something. Though the king appears very kind now, he tends take great enjoyment in seducing ladies and making them his mistresses. These things never end pleasantly for the ladies. From these generosities he had provided you, I think you may be the next victim he had chosen."

To ease Suzanne's mind, she gave a full explanation of what had occurred yesterday when the king tried to kiss her and their conversations since. They had made a sort of truce just to be friends. She assured Suzanne not to worry. Whether Louis meant it or not she could handle him just fine, but she could not ignore Suzanne's look of doubt.

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Late in the afternoon, Colbert exited the king's council room and saw the Comtesse de Valréas walking his way. She wore a forest green satin gown, which swished with every step she took. What baffled him most about this fiery girl was how she suddenly appeared at Versailles and in the king's bedchamber no less. Did the king smuggle her into the palace? Where would he have met her though? The king refused to explain anything to him about Elora Roux, except that her grandfather on her mother's side was once close to his grandfather. This was possible, but how could Louis know about this friendship and he know nothing of it. He had been advisor and confidant to Louis' father, even before the reigning king was born.

What power did this mere girl have over his king? Why did his king not mention _she_ was to have an audience with him today? His Majesty was being extremely secretive, which he had never before been with him. He was this king's most trusted confidant, always knowing Louis' thoughts and decisions before any other. He was determined to soon find out the secret about the Comtesse de Valréas. King Louis could not do, plan, or conspire anything for himself and this being his first venture at independence, he was sure it could not continue on for too long. The king would soon need him and he would be there to pick up the pieces and even dispose of the girl if needed.

Colbert, to his disdain, was getting old. He was forty-eight. The years seemed like they flew by. The Comtesse was incredibly fair in her youth. With the complimentary, close-fitting, low-cut gown she wore he could see that her body was perfection. He was sure that the king had already observed the same about her. Then there were her striking red tresses. King Louis had gone through every single redhead in France, now he had begun to venture in liaisons with English redheads. Would his king ever be satisfied?

The Comtesse stood beside him at the door, yet arrogantly refused to acknowledge his presence. She courteously spoke in a sugary voice to the servant, "Leon, the king is expecting me."

After the page went in the room to announce her he watched as the Comtesse stared straight at the closed door. He could not believe she would rather look at the closed door than acknowledge his presence beside her. Her appalling manners infuriated him. There was something very wrong about her. She reeked of lies and had gotten his king involved as well.

"I am watching you, _Comtesse_. I do not believe for one moment that you are a comtesse from the Americas."

How uncouth she was! She still refused to look at him as she replied with disdain, "Tell someone who cares, my lord, for I'm certainly not interested in listening to your ravings."

"You may have become the king's favorite in a day," He grabbed hold of her arm until she looked at him. And what a glare it was! "But he will lose interest just as quickly."

She shook her arm free of his grasp and stepped back from him. "Then I wonder why my presence here upsets you so much."

"You could still be a threat."

"Yes, but that's for this king's keen judgment to decide.–Now, weren't you leaving…move along." She gestured with both hands for him to go away.

When the footman opened the great oak door the Comtesse quickly slipped in, never looking back at him.

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Louis stood as Elora Roux quickly entered the room. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked upset, yet she was nevertheless stunning. So much in fact, he had to tell her so immediately. He kissed her hand when she was at arms length.

"What has upset you, Elora?"

"Oh, that Colbert character. He's going to be trouble. When he grabbed me out there I almost socked him. Louis, he knows something is fishy about my appearance here and I don't think he believes the story you fed him."

Colbert not trust his word? That was preposterous. He would never cause trouble against his kingly assertion. Elora must have been misinterpreting Colbert's meaning. She was after all a foreigner and unfamiliar with the way men speak.

He encouraged her to sit but she only shook her head. "I will take care of Colbert.–You received my gifts well?" he proudly said, believing he had already won her.

"Oh, you mean all of these clothes? Yes, I got them and thank you.–But it also disturbed me to a point."

"That was not my intention. Tell me what troubles you."

"I would have been satisfied with only one or two dresses. I've really put you out. I just showed up here without any notice. You gave me such a fancy bedroom to stay in. I received my own servant girl and then she tells me that you have spared no expense in having a complete wardrobe made up for me in one day.–I'm afraid I will never be able to repay you for your generosity. And don't even think about telling me that these gifts were no trouble and that it's all forgotten because you're wrong. From where I come from gifts don't come this great. I must find a way to reimburse you one way or another.–To get to the point, Your Majesty, I would like it if you could find me a job, where I can earn money enough to repay you for my clothes, room, and board. I want to be of some use."

Could she be serious? Why could she not just be grateful? Her pretty face was use enough for him, but she would not accept that. There were ways other than manual labor in which she could repay him. Should he dare suggest it? No, she would likely punch him again. "A _job_? You are just a woman; what can a woman do?"

"Didn't we all ready have that conversation, Your Majesty?" She tapped her fingers on the back of a nearby chair.

"Do you not understand the meaning of a gift, Elora?"

"Of course I do…but the expense."

"Why do you talk of expenses? Do I look poor to you? Since I built and furnished this entire chateau don't you think I have enough funds to pay for the mere room and board of a single person?"

Yet she still persisted in asking him about a job. Elora suggested she could clean the chateau. He rebuffed her saying he had servants enough. She was playing the part of a _comtesse_ and a comtesse cannot work. That was what servants were for. He could never allow her to be a servant. Her soft features shouted nobility.

Elora then suggested that she could teach English to those who wished to learn. Again he countered her proposal saying that those that could afford to pay for an English tutor would already have one. She was running out of ideas. She could aide a doctor in his examinations, but no doctor would pay a woman to do his work for him.

He tried to make her understand that a woman just could not have a profession; that was how society worked. He sat down in his chair behind his desk and began to puff at his pipe.

Elora sat down horizontally in an upholstered armchair across with her back against one arm and her legs hanging over the other. "You've got to think of something that I can do for work."

King Louis slightly lifted his eyebrow. What adolescent position for her to sit in. She had even begun to whine. Was she a nineteen year-old woman or a child?

"You _can_ sit in the chair the other way," he said, believing he was being witty.

"I could…if I wanted to…but I don't. Thanks for the suggestion.–Are you avoiding my question?"

Everything that came out of Elora Roux's mouth was a surprise. Only his father and mother ever spoke to him with such superiority. Then Louis suggested she could knit, which she did not take very well.

"_Knit_? What do I look like a damn housewife? What's your other ideas?–I think you want me like all these women here. All they do all day is gossip, carefully pick out their attire, and sit around all day hoping that King Louis will pass their way and glance at them. Silly airheads!"

That suggestion had been a bad one, he thought. Now she was even more riled up and out for blood. She took a deep breath and he could tell by her expression she was holding back a disrespectful outburst.

With a sweet voice she asked, "Your Majesty, maybe there is something I can personally do for you?"

Had she just offered herself to him? Or was this statement an innocent request? He could not contain himself. His sense of mischief pushed him to say, "Well, there is one way for you to reimburse my empty pocketbook."

Immediately Elora's eyes widened as her eyebrows rose. "Pig!" Elora stood up and whipped a pillow at his head, but he swiftly dodged it. "I know exactly what you're thinking and I'll tell you now that I'll never repay you in that sense."

"What a temper. You are lucky that I am a patient and understanding king." Louis pondered his mind for a few minutes. There was complete silence and her stare was so nerve racking. A job has just entered his mind and it was perfect for her. He pulled on the call cord.

The young footman entered the room. "Léon, get the crate of papers over there and deliver them yourself to the Comtesse de Valréas' chamber."

King Louis waited to speak until the door closed and they had privacy again.

"There are a dozen cases that come to me every day of men arrested for crimes. I'm always slow at looking at them because they bore me so. There are more than a month's cases in that crate I want you to examine them. You will scribble a few lines about every case. You should write unbiased data of the crime and how harshly you believe they should be dealt with."

This should quiet her down for a few weeks in the least, he thought. As long he played along letting her think he valued her opinion she would also think that she was reimbursing him. He was a genius. This might even help him in seducing her.

She thanked him repeatedly, apparently very excited about the work he just assigned her. She stood up and shook his hand vigorously. What on earth was she doing? It must be one of her strange customs.

"But you must understand," Louis reminded, suavely pulling his hand away. "You cannot take action. You will examine, but not get involved. I do not wish for you at this time to pass the gates of my chateau. I do not think it is wise to draw an excess attention to yourself."

She gave a curtsy and left the room practically skipping. Louis shook his head and laughed. What could God have been thinking? He really had his hands full with this girl. He had known Elora Roux barely a day and she was already the most overwhelming female he had ever known. No kind word or favor seemed to give her the reaction he intended. He would have to get to know her better, before he could crack her. He was determined to have her in his bed, but knew she was going to be his greatest challenge yet.

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Elora went back to her bedroom immediately and opened the crate. As she pulled out the pile of case papers she realized it was all in French. She could hardly read French, no matter with such poor handwriting. It was a challenge and King Louis knew it when he gave it to her. He must have wanted her to fail, so she would know her place. Oh, the king did not know what kind of girl he challenged to such the task.

She pulled on the cord hanging from the wall and Suzanne entered soon after. Suzanne possessed the ability she had not mastered and agreed to read and write French documents. She was so glad God dropped her here with so many nice people.

Suzanne read out loud to her the paper on the top of the pile; France versus Renaud d'Argent. The accusation against him was supposedly he stole a silver candlestick from the local silversmith. Renaud d'Argent was no pauper living on the streets. He worked as a foreman at a factory in a nearby village.

She decided that she needed to speak with Monsieur Renaud d'Argent. Then she remembered King Louis said she could not leave the chateau grounds. Still, she had to see this man. Suzanne told her there was an underground dungeon where it was likely many of the prisoners who committed crimes locally were kept. She even could get to it from inside the gates of the chateau.

Suzanne would not go with her because prisons frightened her. Elora was determined, so with Suzanne's directions she ventured to the dungeons alone. She took with her a pen, paper, a thin writing board, and a little stool. As she walked down the halls several gentlemen offered their assistance, but she kindly refused. She was surprised any guy took an interest in her. She was certainly not the most beautiful or grandly bejeweled girl walking in the halls.

She walked across the courtyard to the guard's building and went down stairs to the basement floor. When she reached the entrance to the dungeons a guard stopped her. He was a tall, burly man wearing silver armor across his chest and a silver helmet with a red feather at the top. He had an intimidating look that could induce even the bravest of men to cower.

"Are you lost, my lady?"

"No…actually I think you can help me. I'm looking to speak to a certain prisoner."

"The dungeon is no place for a lady such as yourself."

"I must insist; I have to speak with him. I am here on the king's business."

He bowed his head. "Then I shall take you to him."

After telling him the man's name he looked through leather-bound book to see what cell Monsieur d'Argent was in. He made a nod to himself as he closed the book and led the way. He took the stool out of her hand before she could protest. She thanked him and shrugged her shoulders in defeat. The passages were narrow with endless walls, ceilings, and floors of large gray stones.

The guard warned her that some of the prisoners may shock her with fowl remarks, but the best thing to do was not pay any attention to what they said. He must have thought she was one of those stereotypical girls that would faint on cue if they heard something disgusting. She knew though nothing they would say could possibly shock her. As they passed the barred cells many men were quite rude and belligerent, but it was not enough to upset her. It was not the prisoner's foul language that bothered her it was the smell permeating in the stale air. It smelt of something decaying. It was probably from prisoners long forgotten and dead.

The guard stopped in front of a cell door. "This is he, my lady." He set the stool down. "I will be right down the passage keeping an eye on you."

Elora thanked him again. She sat looking through the bars at grungy-looking man. He looked maybe thirty, with brown hair and eyes. She confirmed he was Renaud d'Argent. His voice was soft spoken and passive. She introduced herself and told him the reason she was there. He welcomed her attention and was glad to finally be able to tell his side of the story.

To begin with, Monsieur d'Argent never stole the candlestick holder at all. He had brought it a week earlier to have the handle repaired. Renaud's daughter had an unexpected illness and he had to send for the doctor. This ate up nearly all of his money. He went to tell the silversmith that he could not pay him that week. The silversmith would have none of that. He said he wanted his money for the work. Monsieur d'Argent explained to him the circumstances, but the silversmith would not listen. Instead he had Monsieur d'Argent arrested for not paying his debts.

Monsieur d'Argent spoke with such conviction that she fully believed him. After returning to her room Suzanne helped her write a strongly worded report about Monsieur d'Argent's case. She went through every single case and organized them into different categories according to the accused crime. She anticipated it was going to take her weeks to finish the entire pile of cases.

From trifle to most imperative, Elora was planning to get the small cases over with first. She returned to the dungeons once more by the end of the day. She interrogated ten more men and took notes on their statements. Half had cases relating to Renaud's; most of the men were not thieves, only guilty of not paying debts. Two of the men though, partners obviously, were crude thieves. They both would not stop with the rude comments. They were disgusting looking, not only dirty, but their teeth were rotting and they looked like hardened criminals.

By the end of the day she was quite tired, only desiring a small dinner before going to bed early. A message came from the king inviting her to sit next to him for dinner. Suzanne informed her that after dinner there would be a small dance she was to attend as well.

She cordially refused the invitation from King Louis. She was too tired to get dressed in another gown with an even tighter corset. Instead she asked for her dinner in her room, which was how she preferred it.

When Suzanne returned with her dinner she told her of the king's words. She had given Elora Roux's message to the king's footman. Once the king read it he summoned Suzanne and told her to tell her mistress that she may have a quiet dinner tonight, but he would not allow her refusal for tomorrow night's dinner and festivities.

"Humph," Elora mumbled. "Who does he think he is?"

"He _thinks_ he rules all women. He loves the feeling of being in control. He is the King of France and he knows very well, as do the rest of us, that he can do whatever pleases himself. He feels no guilt…no shame…and no humility."

"Whatever his way of seeking control, he will not rule me; not now, not ever. Once he gets to know me better I promise this bossy behavior will be nonexistent." She had believed he had learned his lesson after she socked him, but a girl could never be too cautious.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

First stirring to the sound of Suzanne unlocking her door and then fully waking when she smelt her breakfast, Elora got up out of bed. She kicked herself for deciding to wake at such an early hour. Five thirty was really early, but she needed solitude during her jog and this was the only time.

After engulfing the delicious breakfast she looked through the wardrobe at the gowns, one of which was mint green and white. The white under layer of the dress was unattached from the green off-the-shoulder, brocaded part. So she wore the white part by itself, remembering to first put on her sports bra. She had originally intended to wear her jogging pants instead of a skirt, but decided against it, just in case someone saw her. She wore them under the skirt instead. She dispensed with make-up and simply tied her hair in a ponytail. Lastly, she put on her running sneakers.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought she looked fairly inconspicuous and her future attire was not apparent. It may not have been an appropriate outfit for the day, but it would due for her exercise. If she was seen by these people it would be hard enough explaining what she was doing and she did not want to explain a futuristic outfit.

Intending to leave the room in a matter of minutes she was stopped when Suzanne saw her. She dropped the pile of linen she had been carrying at the sight of her. "You are not leaving this room dressed as you are, are you?"

"Of course. I cannot exercise in a gown and a corset and three petticoats, now can I? I'll be back by seven. Don't worry no one will see me."

"There is always someone at Versailles to see everything. The king's guards and the gardeners for instance."

Elora just shrugged her shoulders and said she would deal with it if any problems arose. She took her MP3 and put on her earbuds. Once she got outside she walked quickly to the distant gardens, far from the view of the chateau. She looked at her watch to time the jog and began.

After about a half hour Elora faintly heard someone telling her to stop, so she paused her music and noticed she was being followed. She saw three guards running up behind her. This was not going to be pretty. Just her luck they would squeal to Louis. She stopped to let them catch up to her, but continued jogging in place. He was obviously intending to speak to her, so in the seconds she had before they caught up she quickly ripped off her earbuds and wrapped the cord around the player, hiding it in her clenched fist.

The head guard spoke, "Madame, please cease this jumping up and down. We must speak with you. I am Charles de Batz, Comte d'Artagnan, Captain of the King's Guard."

"I am the Comtesse de Valréas. I am just exercising and I will not stop until the hour is up. If I stop now my heart rate will drop and I will have to begin the hour again and I have a busy day ahead of me. It will only be another ten minutes. If you have a problem go ask the king about it."

"I apologize, Comtesse, but I was just going to ask you if you are all right? You move as if you are running from the devil."

"Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine. I just enjoy running. It's a great way to start the day."

"You seem a mighty fit lass."

"Where I used to live I ran for sport in competitions."

"Did you?" They laughed, disbelieving.

She never got that reaction before and did not particularly like it. She would not continue to stand there and let them mock her. "I'm serious." She looked at her wristwatch it had nearly been an hour. "How about this, I _challenge_ the best of your men to a race around the chateau. I can easily beat any of you."

The captain stated he was too old to race her himself, but these young guards he had trained were completely able. "It is a challenge, my lady. Every man I know could beat a woman in a foot race."

She raised her brow; what a cocky bastard he was. She had been the silver-medalist long-distance running champion at her high school for two years in a row. He had no idea how many men she had outrun in her life. "Tell all of my opponents to meet me at the Water Parterre."

She walked back toward the chateau at a brisk pace behind the soldiers. While she waited for the captain to return she did some stretching excises. She expected there would little to no one coming. To her surprise there were a dozen young guards who trailed behind the captain with dedicated precision.

Most appeared in their twenties and maybe some a little older, but all looked in fine, trim shape. Maybe they would not be as easy to beat as she had thought. The uniforms they wore were dark blue and red, with silver lace. They also wore heavy leather boots, not ideal for running, so maybe she had a chance.

"Captain, you didn't say we'd be running against a wee woman," said one of them.

"What are you _afraid_ to lose against a wee woman?" Elora laughed. "You mustn't be very good runners then!"

Captain d'Artagnan placed his sword on the ground and announced this would be the starting and the finish line. They would go five times around the pools.

The race began. Elora was not in the lead the first lap, but that was only because the men were beginning too fast. She predicted they would soon tire and fall behind. The gown she was wearing, though only one thin layer was still slowing her down.

As she felt the wind brush against her face she remembered her first win sophomore year of high school. The only reason she had joined the track team was because there were tons of hot guys on it and her best friend Anne had pushed her to join up with her. When Elora first began she was terrible, but as the years progressed her time improved. Then one of the last games of the season in junior year, the coach lined her up to run against the other teams best players. She never felt so unprepared for a tournament before, she had been up into the early morning partying at Anne's house while her parents were away. She was hung-over and dehydrated, neither making for a good day. It was the first time her family was coming to a game though, so thinking back on it, that could have been the reason she won.

She kept picturing her parents as she ran, so wanting to please them. For the first time she felt at one with nature. The ground beneath her seemed to make each step lighter. The wind no longer slapped against her body, but was as if it was gently grazing her as she past, like the soft touch only a mother could give.

One by one the guards fell behind her and she was sure they would never get ahead of her again. She kept gaining and gaining every step. Once they had reached the chateau on the last lap Elora was ahead of them all. By the time Elora hit the finish line the closest man to her was at least twenty feet behind her.

_Oh yeah! Who won? I won! That's right, a little woman against twelve big, strong men!_ She wanted to say those words aloud, but knew it was not in good sportsmanship. When they all reached the line she congratulated them on a good job and wished them better luck next time.

"Comtesse!" shouted King Louis.

She turned around instantly when she heard him yell. He was coming out of the chateau in his embroidered, silk robe, looking quite livid as he stomped towards her. "Uh-oh! This can't be good.–Excuse me gentlemen, I think the king would like a word with me."

A few of the guards chucked at her embarrassment, but were soon silenced when the king approached.

"Pardon me, Comtesse," blared King Louis, waving his arms in the air. "What was the meaning of that parade that repeatedly passed by my windows? Is this your idea of avoiding drawing attention to yourself?"

"It was nothing, Your Majesty." She made a slight curtsy. "I simply challenged a few of these good men to a race." Elora leaned in towards him. "And I won," she said with a smug smile.

Louis' attention quickly moved from her toward the guards. They were sort of ogling her. Louis straightened up and authoritatively sent them back to their posts. He now eyed her up and down in a disapproving manner. He huffed and doffed his robe. As helped her put it on, she slammed him with a look of aggravation. His attitude was getting on her nerves. She had been having a perfectly lovely time before he came out and ruined it.

Captain d'Artagnan walked up to them. "The way you ran was astounding. Just watching your acceleration from a distance amazed me. Comtesse, if you were a man I would enlist you to the royal guard."

"Thank you. When I competed in tournaments a few years ago it was just for fun. I don't think I could make a career from it."

"And I suppose you often won."

"Yes and I…" She felt Louis squeezing her arm. "Thank you again, Captain, for allowing me to prove my worth."

"I know now that your worth is greatly beyond measure."

"I will be out again tomorrow."

"No she will not," Louis finished.

The king took strong hold of her arm and led her inside. All King Louis said was her name with a frustrated and disappointed sigh. He did not need to say more.

"I know, Your Majesty, I cannot be doing these things.–At least I did it early without an audience."

"What do you call those men racing you and those guards looking on, if not an audience? What are you doing out so early in any case and merely half dressed?"

She had no difficulty explaining what she was doing, it was just why she was doing it in his chateau gardens that was a challenge to make him understand.

Louis did not want her continuing with these daily runs, but Elora insisted she would keep a very low profile in the future. He told her no, but from the doubting look on her face and the rolling of her eyes she made it easy to see she was not going to follow his command. So he conceded, only allowing her to run in the King's Garden. Though it was a large garden, it was likely small for her purposes, but at least it would ensure no one else would be there to see her and it was a good distance from the chateau.

When Elora got to her room a bath was waiting. Suzanne practically scolded her for being much later than she said she would be, fearing her mistress' displeasure at the cooled water. That temperature was perfect for the way Elora was feeling. She was drenched in sweat, the perfect way to know if one has had a good workout.

Suzanne helped her read the criminal reports after she got dressed. Elora wanted to double the reports today to what she had done yesterday, so she hurried her on her way to the prison.

By four o'clock they had finished with fourteen more case reports. All the men were imprisoned for thievery of some sort. She felt like she was becoming a lawyer, dealing with these kinds of cases. This was beginning to be a tedious project.

All she wanted was to get out of her corset and go to bed. King Louis, rather Suzanne, would have none of that. It was settled by everyone but her, Elora was going to dinner tonight. An hour later, Elora was garbed in a blue-violet taffeta, fully equipped with pointed cloth shoes, a feathered fan, and gloves embroidered and fringed.

"Any last minute advice, Suzanne, before I go out to face the wolves?"

"Take heed Elora, your introduction to court is no joke. Be very careful not to go against court protocol, for everyone always keeps a watchful eye on the new person."

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Louis had been sitting at the dinner table for an entire six minutes. Still he did not see Elora Roux enter. She had promised him she would come this evening. He had never had so much difficulty trying to convince a woman to join him for dinner and sit at his right hand. Such was a place of honor and highly coveted. Elora had agreed this morning, but made coming sound like it would be a chore instead of a pleasure. What sort of future did she really come from? If she were to change her mind in coming this evening he hoped she would have sent word to him by now.

Louis even now thought of Elora Roux's foreboding words about his kingdom. _Riots. Revolution. Death to all the royal family and nobility_. He did not want to believe that was the future of his France. He never felt protective of his kingdom until then. Could he somehow prevent a revolution that would happen after he was dead? Elora Roux could be a valuable weapon to help him protect the crown. But how could he use her to his advantage? He would need to think about it further. Elora Roux was not going anywhere. He could take his time.

He had done a wonderful job at beautifying her. If only her manners and her speech improved he will have created the most accomplished female of his time.

This morning when he had seen her running about the gardens with half of his royal guard chasing after her his heart nearly stopped. He had not even noticed until he was outside beside her that her attire was practically transparent. What had she been thinking leaving her bedchamber only half dressed? She had stood there with no modesty, allowing all those men to stare, as if her near nakedness had completely escaped her. He could hardly believe further she had been upset with him at that time. He did all of this to protect her.

He was glad he agreed to let her continue her exercise in his private garden. He thought he might sneak over there some morning to watch her. If she dressed as lightly as she did this morning then it would definitely be an entertaining event for him. Her perspiration made her gown practically transparent, which was not at all displeasing to his eye.

He decided, two more minutes and he was going to begin the meal without her. Elora stepped into the immense dining hall not a minute later. She stopped in the entryway to observe the room and it contents. Her face revealed no emotion, so he could not tell at all what sort of humor she was in. Her gazed remained on the horseshoe table, which sat well over a hundred. Most of the seats were already taken when she entered, but there were still some courtiers trickling in. The muffle of conversations filled the room with gayety.

She smiled when she caught sight of him. As the page showed Elora to her seat, nearly every gentleman she passed stood up and bowed.

"Do not fret," came Philippe's voice in his left ear. "Your new favorite is here now. She is a beauty, Louis. Be careful I think the Duc de Chartres and the Marquis de Sévigné may have taken an interest as well."

He turned to his brother sitting next to him. He could not veil the sarcasm in his voice, "It is good that I have you to tell me these things, Philippe. I will miss moments such as this when you are away."

His mother had always allowed Phillipe the freedom to speak without reserve and at times informally to him. Up until four years ago they got along splendidly. During Phillipe's sixteenth year, a year after their mother had died, Phillipe connecting himself with some rather crude characters at court. Whispers were heard that the prince was gathering followers loyal to him and preparing for a civil war. Nothing ever happened though and Phillipe soon disassociated himself with his friends that were potential revolutionaries. Those men were swiftly executed to be sure the prince's ears were no longer influenced.

Louis watched as the page pulled out the empty seat at his right and Elora moved in front of the chair. As the young page was about to push in the chair for her to sit, two arrogant gentlemen came and pushed the boy away. Then before he knew it the two courtiers were fighting over who was to push in Elora's chair.

By the time one of them decided who would have the honor of pushing in her chair dinner would be over. He was about to tell Chartres and Sévigné get a move on when Elora pushed in the chair herself. That simple action caused a sudden uproar among the courtiers. The ladies gasped at her lack of manners and waived their fans furiously. Some gentlemen were impressed, curling their lower lips over their upper and nodding their head. At the same time other gentlemen sat wide-eyed and silent, including Colbert.

Perhaps he had made a mistake presenting her to court so soon. Her manners were certainly at no level for her to be out to decent society. It was all too late now though. Louis leaned over towards her and spoke faintly, "Elora, I thought we agreed you would avoid drawing attention to yourself. In only a single day you have stirred up the royal guards and the servants. Now within two minutes of being in the same room as my courtiers you have caused complete havoc."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," she gritted her teeth. "But don't forget it was by your order that I attend the dinner festivities. You should have known before now that my independent spirit wouldn't tolerate those blabbering fools.–So in a way this _havoc_ is your fault," Elora whispered back.

"The King of France is never at fault."

How dare she place the blame on him, the king! She had no idea when it would be to her benefit to hold her tongue. She simply said whatever pleased her without any consideration. He was irritated to the near point of indecency. No man, certainly no woman, had ever dared such candor with him. Elora could someday be a great advisor to him, if he could be sure that she could be trusted. Yet there was nothing evident in her character to suppose she was untrustworthy.

Elora rolled her eyes as she placed the silk napkin on her lap. "How long did it take you to convince yourself of that, Your Majesty?"

For a moment he felt outraged, but then smooth as butter said, "If anyone other than you spoke those words to me I would have them chastised, then banished from my court. I will forgive this great insult if you promise not to do it again."

"May we please just eat dinner? I want to get this over with."

Louis felt their minor argument was beginning to stir the attention of the courtiers. Many eyes were on them, so he announced that dinner be served. The servant began to put platters of food along the center area of the great table.

The foods brought out were nicely prepared, but she verbalized under her breath she had no idea what the dishes were. She tried asking the servants, but Louis made a sharp glare in her direction when she attempted to get one of the servant's attention. Instead she asked Louis to enlighten her.

First they were served steaming beef and onion soup. Then came the main dishes of stewed rabbit and potato, shoulder of mutton, calves tongue sautéed in a butter-cream sauce, capon drizzled with white wine, and tench-fish baked in a lemon-herb sauce. There were countless vegetable platters ranging from spinach with an artichoke cream sauce to brussels sprouts to pickled cucumbers.

He spoke softly to her, so his brother would not feel obligated to listen in on their conversation, "Elora, now that your status is official here I feel I must be firm when I tell you this.–There is a certain way of life here. These people are content with it. I _cannot_ have you disrupting it.–You must learn quickly this way of life. I say this because I want you to be safe. You were born to be a Comtesse if you could only play the role."

Her heart must have softened because she touched his arm and squeezed it gently. "I know you mean well, Your Majesty. I feel ungrateful now. You have done so much for me. I will try to be more pleasant. I will play the part…but I refuse to give up my ideals. I cannot change my heart and beliefs; it is not in my power."

"Your honesty and willingness to meet this challenge has impressed me as greatly as a seal impresses liquid wax."

Louis could tell by her crinkled brow that she had not taken his flattery the way he had intended.

"Your Majesty, you have to stop talking to me like this. You're forgetting that we're just friends."

"I only say this because you are deserving of a king's dulcet words, for I know I will never be wasting them when I am speaking of you.–Let us eat for now and we may further discuss this matter later."

After the king had finished his dinner the entire court shuffled into a rather large dancing room. Elora was of course on the king's arm. He asked her to join him for the first dance, but she had to refuse, reminding him that she did not know their dances.

"That is the only excuse I will allow, Comtesse.– I will ask another lady who would sell her soul to the very devil to have the first dance with me."

He would have to remember to schedule her with a dancing instructor posthaste. He loved dancing and she would need to be competent in something feminine of this sort.

"You certainly think well of yourself, Your Majesty."

"And why shouldn't I? I am the king of all France, after all."

He had not noticed until her eyes rolled back how pompous that must have sounded. It was rare he noticed his conceit, but appearing more often now that Elora Roux had come to his court. She said nothing in reply to his comment her action was enough of an insult. She only curtsied, then walked away. With her gone he now had time to survey the room for a lovely lady who he would honor tonight, not just being his partner for dancing, but also to share his bed at the end of the night.

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It seemed to Elora that every gentleman in the entire room asked her to dance that night; too bad for them she had to refuse each and every one. Some were young and handsome, but most were older and not quite so handsome. She could not believe the number of men that looked like they were in their thirties and forties who were checking her out. Where were their wives or girlfriends to keep them in check?

She watched as the courtiers took pleasure in the dancing. The dances looked fairly uncomplicated. She noticed though that there was barely any body-to-body contact between the partners. King Louis seemed particularly interested in Danielle Manion, the Comtesse de Maine the rest of the evening. He danced the first dance with her and most of the dances that followed.

In order to avoid all the guys asking her to dance, she spent the majority of the evening watching the dancing from a spacious, black-cushioned armchair in a small, dimly lit alcove. She would not admit to herself she was hiding, but everything and everyone was a little overwhelming. She did not intend to be this antisocial, but at the same time she was fearful of trying to make friends with these people. What could she possibly say to them? She could barely get by speaking their language; not to mention they had absolutely nothing in common.

She guessed it was around ten thirty when she dozed off, but for certain she woke to the clock striking twelve.

"So you are finally awake," she heard a man's voice say. At the same moment she gasped and flinched as she set her eyes on Prince Phillipe sitting in a chair beside her.

"Comtesse, I did not mean to startle you."

Elora sat up straight and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her gown. She had been curled up sleeping in that chair; how awful that must have looked. "Your Highness, what are you doing here?"

"Being your gallant." She was confused with his answer. "While you were taking your little nap several men entered this alcove with intentions and–"

"Intentions! They didn't try to…I mean they wouldn't…"

"No they didn't, but only because I was already here."

He brought up a very good point, so she asked, "Why are _you_ here?"

"Simply watching over you. You are lucky it was I who came along. What were you thinking taking a nap in one of these alcoves? What do you think men use these for? And you were already in here, innocently waiting for one of them."

He sounded upset; like the prince was protective of her or perhaps covetous. From the way he had looked at her out in the gardens the other day and earlier at dinner she had been getting a particular vibe from him. He could not have been more than a couple of years older than she. He has a lanky, younger built figure than King Louis. His eyes were a lovely baby blue, which went perfectly with his wavy, dirty-blond hair that just reached his shoulders. His eyebrows were thin and straight which gave him an enigmatic look. She especially liked his chiseled cheekbones, which flattered his smile.

"Your highness, thank you for your services this evening. I promise you I will never make a mistake like this again." She began to walk out.

"Your mistakes seem to happen quite often, I have observed. You are different. You have no knowledge of royal protocol. Your manner is uneducated in the very least. I do not know the specifics of who you really are. If you continue this way I am sure it will not be long before your secret is found out and the whole court will know. What concerns me most is you seem to be naïve of the dangers of the French Court."

Elora stopped and turned back to face Prince Phillipe. So he did suspect something was wrong with her. She had hardly believed she would fool everyone and Philippe seemed rather sharp. She wondered if Louis would have any problem with his brother knowing this precious secret. There was an obvious discomfort between the two. If Louis distrusted him perhaps there was something there.

"I may be naïve, but sometimes one must live dangerously, even if that means not religiously complying to royal protocol." She stepped back towards him. "If you don't live dangerously, what excitement is there in living? With a hint of danger, our existence is…prolific and thrilling."

He stood up, inching closer to her. "I will remember that."

"There is no great secret to who I am. I'm simply new to court life and all that it entails. I will get the hang of it soon enough."

"I am sure you will.–Did you realize you talk in your sleep. Only minutes ago you said the Prince of France was the most beautiful and dignified of men."

"Wow, I said all that!" Her right eyebrow lifted, doubting his words. "I have never referred to any of the male sex as beautiful. I wonder why I would say such things in my sleep? Are you sure that's what I said?"

"I should have known I could not fool you. Actually you said something I did not entirely understand. I always thought I was completely fluent in the English language, but I was taken aback when you spoke of 'borrowing Mom's _car_, hanging at the _mall_, and later catching a _movie_.' Does this make sense to you?–Is a _movie_ like a fox or deer?"

Elora had to laugh. It could not hurt to explain it to him a little. "A car is similar to carriages, but faster. The mall is an indoor shopping area. A movie is another word for a theatrical play."

"I see. I suppose I should brush up on my English then."

"I suppose."

"Maybe you could be the one to refresh my memory and teach me the latest." He took hold of her hand.

A nervous chuckle escaped her. She was not an idiot. She knew what he was getting at. "Is this your attempt at flirting with me?"

"That all depends."

Elora thought for a moment. She pulled her hand away from his, sighing a deep breath as she said, "I'm sorry if my manner or what I've said the gave you the wrong impression. I do not want to get romantically involved with anyone right now for many reasons, but thank you."

"Oh," was all he mustered to say.

It was then she noticed the lovely rosary beads in the prince's hand. The chain and crucifix were gold and the beads were black pearls. She had never seen such a fancy rosary. It looked like one the pope would have.

"Comtesse, what are you thinking?"

She looked back up at him, a little embarrassed. "Well, I noticed your gorgeous rosary beads. May I see them?"

He let the beads hang from his finger, moving them closer to the Comtesse. "Do you pray the rosary often, Comtesse?"

"Oh, I used to try to every day."

"Then you must have it." He held them out to her.

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly." She quickly moved her hand behind her back. "It looks so expensive. You must have had it custom made."

"Comtesse, nothing would give me more pleasure than to give you these beads. It is not at all precious to me. It will be marvelous token of our friendship." He took her hand, placed the rosary beads in her palm, then turned her hand over and kissed it.

"You are very generous; thank you. I actually left mine back at home, so this is perfect. I will always keep you in my prayers.–Goodnight, Your Highness." She curtsied.

Elora exited the alcove and saw Louis arm and arm with the Comtesse de Maine leaving the ballroom. Nearly everyone followed, leaving for bed themselves. Elora trailed after King Louis and the Comtesse de Maine solely because her room was farther down the same hall and up the stairs. Right away when she turned the corner she saw Louis passionately kissing the Comtesse de Maine, while at the same time pushing her up against his door.

When she saw Elora passing by them she pushed King Louis away a little. She looked up at King Louis worried and scared. Then King Louis whispered something to her. She seemed calm again and went into his room. He did not follow though; he just stood there watching Elora pass.

Danielle Manion was a very pretty girl, but she had the standard seventeenth century look. Her hair was a dark brown that she curled and teased until it was so frizzy one would think it was a very humid day by looking at her. She was short in height, but blessedly buxom. She could not be any older than her. She had a very cute baby face, fat cheeks with dimples and short button nose.

Elora had assumed Louis would get lucky with her tonight. Danielle was free to do whatever tickled her fancy as far as Elora was concerned. She smiled at King Louis and encouraged, "Go get her."

"I intend to," he said arrogantly. He turned his head glancing in the room at the attractive, patiently waiting girl. "That could have been you tonight waiting for me."

"In your dreams, Your Majesty," she said in English. Elora walked past him, never looking back. "In your dreams," she echoed.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The king walked at a comfortable pace to Elora Roux' bedchamber. Two nights had past since Elora had seen his liaison with the Comtesse de Maine. Each night since Elora had successfully escaped the after-dinner festivities thinking he did not notice, even though he certainly did.

His footman had gone ahead to inform her chambermaid of his impending arrival. Yet the door was not open to him when he reached his destination. In spite of that he could hear every word spoken on the other side of the door.

"Elora! Hurry and wake up! The king comes!" yelled the servant girl as he heard her pull back the bed curtains.

"No Suzanne, you must tell King Louis he has to wait till morning. I'll talk to him then."

"My lady, do not be a ninny. The king is hard upon my heels and only waits to come in until you are decent. It is treason to refuse the king. Get up, so I may get a proper gown on you."

"I refuse put on my dress at this hour only to please the king. Just get me a robe to put over my pajamas, that will be enough."

Elora Roux was quite a handful. He could not help rolling his eyes. He entered the room moments later. He was surprised to find her looking as if she had been asleep. Elora did not appear too happy with him, looking as if she were about to throw something at him. Both of her hands were tightened into fists and her chin tipped downward so her eyes looked up at him through her infuriated brow. He wondered if he had actually woken her. Perhaps deciding to call on her this evening was a bad idea. He stopped at a little more than an arm's length away from her, just in case she was intending to lunge at him. He mumbled something to the effect that he was glad to see her fully awake.

"I was sleeping," Elora said slowly. He could see she was clenching her teeth. "What could you possibly want at this hour? It had better be good!"

"Do not take that tone with me. I am not just some courtier. I am king."

"I am constantly reminded of that Your Majesty, yet you behave like an unmannered barbarian coming in here disrupting my privacy and my sleep." She waived her arms about as she scolded him. "Ha, a king indeed. I have never known such an arrogant snob in all my life. I'm sorry I have to be the one to shatter your fantasy. You are only king due to an accident of birth.–You are not above the law as you think you are. There is no such thing as the Divine Right of Kings.–You are a man, the same as any thief, merchant, or servant that is alive today. _You are no better_. We are all equal to God. It is man that breeds inequality. You, Louis are only a man. And that is how I see you and treat you, as I would any other."

Of course he was better! No man was equaled in worth to the king. God created him for this purpose, nothing was by chance when it came to God. No Englishman or anyone had ever insulted him so cruelly in his life. She had actually wounded him. These words had actually come from the lips of his guest who was insistent that they be friends. "You presume too much, Elora."

"Do I?" Yet still she continued with the vicious insults to his person. His heart began to pound hard, his mind growing as angry as she. "Deep within your mind you are probably thinking no one ever dared say such things to you. They never dared it because they feared you so, Your Majesty, but that does not mean that they didn't _think_ about it. You are living your life in an illusion that everybody respects and reveres you, the king. I am sure there are more of your subjects that think the contrary of you whom you don't even suspect."

King Louis was tired of being on the wrong side of this argument. He had come in with the intent of chastising her for sneaking out of his presence after dinner without permission. He noticed every night she disgraced him, even though the Comtesse de Maine took up most of his time. He liked keeping an eye on Elora Roux and he feared she had been leaving early with a courtier. He had been relieved when there was no man in the room when he entered, as he suspected there would be. "Why do you tell me these ravings, Elora? You should not risk losing my favor."

"I'm telling you these things because someone needs to and I'm not afraid to do it. Besides I'm never in a good mood when I am woken from a sound sleep. I sometimes say things that I wouldn't dare under different circumstances."

Now she did not bother to use words to insult him; her body language did all the talking. She turned her back to him and let her robe fall to the ground. He could not believe she had just snubbed him! It was as if she did not want to speak to him further. No one had ever treated him thus! What had she done to her nightshift? It had been cut down to knee length. Her legs were very nice to look at and that golden anklet shined in the candlelight. She then made herself comfortable by lying down in bed and pulling the covers up over her.

"So I am the one who has been at fault? Elora, this _implication_ of yours is constant." He walked over to her bedside, looking at her even though she had closed her eyes tightly. "You are the one who is here imposing under my good graces. I have been, as my advisors say, overgenerous in dealing with you. I have given you shelter, wardrobe, food, and entertainment. I bestow privileges unto you that I have never even granted my own loyal men. And I will not fail to mention the job that you begged me for and I so kindly gave you. Now after all my generosity you deeply insult me in every way possible."

She opened her eyes and the anger faded from her face. He saw sadness cloud over her eyes and he began to feel guilty; something a king should never feel, yet he still pressed the matter. She had to understand her place. "I never would have reproached you on all of this if you had not provoked me so and made me seem the villain. Your lack of manner and respect exasperates me.–Why so quiet all of a sudden. You have never felt it necessary to play shy before."

"You're right."

He could not believe she had conceded so easily. Perhaps he had gone too far, for now her eyes began to look watery.

"You know," she spoke softly as she sat up. "It is not like I came here on purpose to ruin your perfect world. It's not like I had any choice. I cannot change who I am just to satisfy your opinion of me. I like myself and my opinions and my mannerisms. I want to work to pay off my debts, for you or for anyone who will take me. I do not need to be a comtesse. I could be just as happy here being a maid or something. I am not afraid of work and I do not expect you or anybody give me anything for free." She rubbed her face. "I'm sorry I irritate you so much. I'm sorry I am not as grateful a courtier as you want me to be. I'm sorry I cannot have a conversation with you without starting an argument. I'm sorry I've hurt your feelings. It's not easy for me here. No matter how much you make me over, I still will not fit in. I do try, but it is so very hard. I am a fish out of water here. I am so alone."

He shook his head in disagreement. "Elora, I am here."

"No, no not really. You may be the only one to know the truth about me, but you still do not understand me. No one here does, but it is not your fault." A single tear ran down her face, dripping off her chin and onto the blanket.

King Louis felt a small, but definite pull at his heart. Why did he care so much? She was just another woman. He suffered from an innate instinct to comfort her. Everything she said always penetrated him. When she spoke it was with such heart-felt honesty, good or bad. Louis realized he was becoming quite fond of that honesty.

"Come." He gestured for her to come into his open arms. Surprisingly she came to him.

"Louis, I…" Elora mumbled.

"Shhh," he soothed. Her hair fell in his face and he could smell the soft gardenia oil she must have used in her hair. He remembered the last lady he knew that wore that scent, his young cousin, Catherine. She lived with him in the years of his youth at the Palais du Louvre. She chose that scent herself when she was three. She had been the sweetest, most well-behaved child he had seen, but of course she was born a princess, and raised likewise. The nurses bathed her in that scent forever on. In the palace nursery he enjoyed her company ever so much more than Philippe's. Even as Catherine lied on her deathbed at six years old, her frail little body still smelled of gardenia. He found it curious that both women he cared so much for had chosen that particular scent.

It was then he noticed the excellent pose they were in. He loved embracing her. No one ever embraced him and squeezed with the sort of devotion the way Elora did. How he wanted to push her onto the bed and make love to her at that very moment, but something restrained him.

She backed out of his embrace. "Your Majesty, what exactly did you want with me at this hour?"

"I am going to teach you to dance myself, this very night." In a heartbeat, King Louis held out his hand for hers.

Elora agreed, with a slight bob of the head. She took a gown from her wardrobe and changed into it behind the floor screen, while he waited. When she finished dressing she went right over to him, turned her back to him, and wordlessly had him lace up her gown. The surprises never ended with this woman, he thought, as he laced and tied her gown.

Louis led her into one the ballrooms and summoned the royal band to play for them privately. He taught her a number of the customary dances. Elora learned them rather quickly and she even commented about how most of them were fairly simple. She told him she started dancing when she was four years old. That was about the age he began as well.

She insisted he wait in the ballroom while she ran back to her chamber and got her _ballet shoes_ and _MP3_, whatever those were. She returned shortly after she left, he thought she must have run all the way there and back. If that was the case he hoped no one saw her running. She asked him to dismiss the band so they could be alone. She found an instrument that she could use as a _megaphone_ to enhance the sound of her music from her _MP3 machine_. Elora danced an elaborate ballet number to _The Nutcracker Suite_, which she said had won her troupe the New England Dance Competition a few years back.

He complemented her talent, but was actually more interested in her music box. He did not understand how an entire orchestra could fit inside that small box.

It was three in the morning when Louis bid her goodnight at her bedroom door.

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The following morning, feet sore from hours of dancing, Elora sat down by the window with Suzanne. She was surprised Suzanne had not figured out the truth by now. After all, she was the person she was most herself around. Elora was sure she must have noticed there was something strange about her. She was the one who took care of her when she first came to Versailles and every day since. All this time she had never questioned her.

"You must know there is something that I have been hiding from you."

Suzanne merely nodded, still not prompted to ask her.

Elora explained that she was not really nobility and certainly did not know how to act noble. Living here she was beginning to feel inadequate. She was self conscious around others and even ashamed she did not have such elegant manners as they. "People have been noticing. You see I am from a country very far away, where society is completely different; more advanced in technology, but backwards in etiquette and morality. Suzanne, you can help me smooth out my rough edges. You understand this little world of Versailles. Will you help me?"

"Not a comtesse? But the king said you are."

"Only to protect me, so I can stay here without censure. Now I need to play the part."

"And I can certainly help you, Elora. I have lived at court for many years."

Suzanne listed off many instructions of do's and do not's. Elora did her best to remember each one, listening very carefully. Ladies should be charming, decorative, meek, and easy to manage. Whenever you advance to someone or someone advances to you, you are to give a proper curtsy. Take a gentleman's hand only when he offers it. Do not talk in the king's presence unless he speaks to you, and all gentlemen for that instance. Keep conversation to a minimum and keep it formal, do not run away with your feelings when you speak. Eyes should be intent with the ground. Have your voice always at a subdued tone. Walk; never run. Laugh when a gentleman laughs. The king must always see you cheerful and smiling; no man likes a woman with a grimace.

"You must sing, play an instrument, or paint. A lady of good breeding does all of these. Do you engage yourself in any of these pastimes?"

"Yes, I play the violin a little" A very little; maybe enough notes to play _Mary Had a Little Lamb_. Lord help her if anyone ever asked her to play. "I can carry a tune if I have to. I am a great dancer."

"That is a corner we can pass. We must also work in detail on table manners, how to eat, to sit, walk, talk, and stand. This will take more than a day, you can't possibly learn everything all at once."

Beginning to feel overwhelmed, she partially regretted asking so much of Suzanne. Even though she knew all of what she said was important for her to know.

Elora needed a little break between lessons with Suzanne, so she ventured down the halls of Versailles with no specific agenda, just hoping to clear her head. What would she be doing today if she were back home? She likely would have picked up a 9-3 shift at the family practitioners' office. She worked as a medical assistant there; usually doing the menial tasks, like vital signs and giving shots, but she still loved it. The practice had several doctors in it and one of them was her mother's friend.

Doctor Kathy Webster went to high school with her mom and they had been friends ever since. Four years ago at their annual Fourth of July cookout she had mentioned that she wanted to go to college for pre-med. Kathy offered her a job at her practice right there on the spot. She had never been so excited. So she took night classes for six weeks that summer and was working at the office before her junior year started. Kathy had been her mentor for all these years. She wished she were only a phone call away to give her advice with her career here and now.

Now that aspiration was over. There was no way she could be a doctor in this place. The only job she could have here was a silly one Louis had only made-up in order to make her stop nagging him. The idea of her working was considered so terrible that she could not even tell anyone. Was it a secret that she should be ashamed of? She hated that. She could not understand why it took so many thousands of years for women to gain the rights of equality. Could it not have happened a few hundred of years earlier? Then she would not be so alone in her opinions here. No one understood.

She stood looking through one of the open windows in the Hall of Mirrors at the horizon past the gates of the chateau, watching the carriages come and go. The prince had left for Italy soon after daybreak that very morning. Suzanne had told her practically the entire court saw him off. Of course Elora was not one of them. She had been busy jogging through the King's Garden around that time. The people of the seventeenth century, she thought, were such kiss-ass fools. They would do anything to gain royal favor. They sacrificed their time to please the royal brothers, who would likely never give them the time of day.

It was not that she did not like the prince, but she could not lower herself like that in order to gain superficial attention. It was not as if she was one of his actual subjects. He had been really sweet giving her his rosary. She liked how people here were so altruistic and giving. She never saw things like that in the twenty-first century. She hoped he would return soon. He would be a nice friend to have, especially if the king tried to get fresh again.

A man calling her name from behind stirred her from her daydream. She turned back and saw a young man approaching her. His matching light brown hair and large puppy-eyes gave him a sexy look. His handsome appearance was impressive, though he must have been in thirty years old. He greeted her in such a manner like he was her friend. She courteously replied with a curtsy, even though she did not recognize him.

He continued on, speaking about how they never got a chance to formally meet each other the previous evening. She had quite surprised everyone when she sat herself at the table. He told her when she spoke to the king in English at dinner he had been a little worried she spoke no French. Now she recognized him! He was one of the guy's who was trying to push in her chair.

He commented on her odd sounding, French accent. His powers of observation were extraordinary! She told him it was too obvious to hide. She hoped that after time the accent would fade and she would not stand out so much. She wanted more than anything to blend in with the other courtiers.

She wondered why this guy was so interested in speaking to her. She hoped he did not have a crush on her. That could be wrong on so many levels. What if one of these guys here was her great-great grandfather's great-great grandfather?

He made a point to say his friend's sister had been aching to meet her. After all of this conversing, the guy still had not told her his name, so she asked him bluntly, but still with a courteous ring.

He excused himself with a great to-do and replied that he expected she would have found out about him by now. Her jaw dropped slightly at that moment. Was this guy for real? Like he was just such a hot guy she could not contain her passions and had to find out his name immediately; _yeah right_! She kept these feelings concealed and explained she had only been living at Versailles for several days and was acquainted with few.

She went on to say she barely recognized him from the other night. Her mind was focused on many other things that evening. He nodded his head, she believed he was now understanding she was no simpering coquette like the rest who would make love to him with words whether she liked him or not. He finally introduced himself as Cesaire Lichault, the Marquis de Sévigné.

There came a girl's voice speaking to Cesaire, saying they had been looking for him. The young girl who approached them was on the arm of a young man.

Cesaire eloquently introduced the gentleman as Christophe Morlaix, Duc de Chartres and the girl as Lady Thérèse Morlaix, his sister. The ladies curtsied and the duc bowed as they were introduced.

Christophe Morlaix seemed only a few years older than she. His curly hair was dark brown and his eyes were lime green. He was extremely muscular and a little taller than the king, who was at least six feet. Before coming to this time she had thought all French men were short, like Napoleon. She was glad to be mistaken.

Thérèse was petite and a few inches shorter than she. Elora soon found out that she was only fifteen years old. She had beautiful banana-curled, brown tresses and the same striking green eyes as her brother. Her deep dimples made her even more becoming. There was an air about her that was so warm and kind.

Elora inquired if Christophe was part of the royal family because as far as she knew only royalty had that title. He clarified that his grandfather was brother to King Henri. So the Morlaix siblings were King Louis' cousins, a few times removed.

Thérèse was very friendly with her from the start. They had all been aching to become acquainted with her. She explained that she knew Elora was new to His Majesty's court and it must all be terrifying. At least that is how she felt when she first came to Versailles eight months ago. Luckily she had her dear brother and all of his friends here to help her adjust to court life and feel welcome. Elora had come here to live and was all alone, which is why they all wanted to make it a point to befriend her.

She asked them to call her Elora. She then remembered this was not her time and this might not be appropriate request, so she finished with saying only if they were comfortable with it.

Christophe insisted to her it was not a problem. "How could we say no to a beautiful friend with such a beautiful name?"

Elora wondered what he meant by that comment. Was he flirting with her too? If so, guys here moved fast.

The group of them took a long walk in the garden talking and getting to know each other. Elora decided all three of her new friends were cool and were going to be fun to have around. Lady Thérèse reminded her of Anne, with her sweet voice and friendly nature. She was so glad there was someone in the chateau who wanted to befriend her. For the first time she was actually getting the feeling she was welcome in this place and even in this time.

That evening after dinner she danced as much as she would have if she went clubbing in Boston, though the dancing was not as hip. King Louis honored her with the first dance and Lady Thérèse seemed more excited than she. She remembered it was supposedly a great honor to dance with the king. Honor was very important to these people. To her Louis was just another guy in the room with a big, curly wig and a lace collar asking her to dance. When she was not dancing with the king she was either dancing with one of the boys or gabbing with Thérèse.

The king mentioned his surprise that she danced with the skill of many years practice. She admitted it was not just the lesson with him. She had a good eye for the choreography of dance. She knew at least ten of the popular dances and the ones she did not know she casually sat out for, taking either refreshment or sitting to rest her feet. She knew she would soon be needing another lesson or two with Louis to learn the rest of the dances.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

The weeks passed by, since the night she had shown King Louis her ballet moves she was motivated to continue ballet. She used the fancy footboard of her bed as a barre for her practicing after she returned from her jog in the morning. She could only imagine what Patty, her instructor would say if she returned home with decreased flexibility and strength. She would never be able to explain such changes to her body.

Elora and her new friends were getting along nicely. Thérèse was becoming her best friend and the guys were their protectors. No man dared to make advances towards her with the guys around, which was exactly how she wanted it. She was very certain she did not want to get romantically involved with anyone from the seventeenth century. Chris was dutifully protective of his younger sister, but now he was playing the part of older brother to two sisters.

Other than the morning when she exercised and made her reports about the prisoners, she was found hanging out with her friends. Though they had become casual around each other, all three of them never faltered. A mistake was never made; never the wrong thing said that might offend or an action unguarded in case it be seen wrong in another courtier's eye. She was still the black sheep among them, even though Suzanne's insightful lessons had continued.

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Christophe and Cesaire sat beside Elora in one of the alcoves in the great dancing hall at an evening gala. His darling, young sister, Thérèse was busy dancing with Lord Michaud and Cesaire could barely take his eyes off her on the dance floor. His jealousy could not be masked, even toward the old, unattractive Lord Michaud who was certainly no threat to him. Thérèse's love for Cesaire was certain, though she had not spoken those words out loud to him, she conveyed it in every look and gesture when with Cesaire.

He had just made the suggestion that the four of them go out riding tomorrow. He saw Elora's eyes light up with excitement for a moment only, then drop down toward the floor in dismay. She declined the invitation seconds later. Both he and Cesaire questioned her motives for staying behind, when their party would have so much fun at their venture. Cesaire joked asking her if she were afraid of horses, but she insisted that was not the case.

"Please stop asking me. You will think my reason ridiculous and ask me more questions that I don't care to answer, so let's just drop it."

"Elora," began Cesaire. "Why are you wearing mix-matched gloves?"

"Oh, is it that apparent? I was hoping no one would notice."

Chris had noticed well before Cesaire, but had said nothing since he held a great secret in his heart and did not want to draw attention to it as of yet. He had assumed after losing a glove she would simply acquisition a new pair, never contemplating she would wear a mix-matched set.

"You guys want to hear a mystery? Either I'm going mad or there's a thief in our midst. My gloves keep going missing."

Both Cesaire and he began to smirk, thinking Elora was just toying with them.

"If I put them down on the table the next time I look the mate is always missing. I'll tell you some lady surely must have a huge collection of gloves by now. I've gone through three pairs already.–You know Chris last night when you were holding my last matching pair you only gave me one back. Do you think you can search your jacket pockets from yesterday and see if it's there? Please don't forget to check, Chris, I really need it."

Cesaire cracked up laughing when she finished. Chris gave him a shove to warn him not to give her an explanation. "Now, why are you both laughing again? Have I been left out of a joke?" Still her confounded brow continued to amuse them.

"Elora, I would not count on Christophe finding the glove. But I am sure he will be glad to get you a new, finer pair to replace it."

He should have said that instead of Cesaire, but Elora's sparkling eyes tended to keep him speechless on many occasion. "Of course," he finally blurted.

What they did not tell Elora was the reason for her missing gloves; it was because her admirers had taken them as tokens of her. He was astonished that she had not caught on to his reason for only returning one glove. How could she not know his meaning? He wondered what other gentlemen had done the same as he, for he had only been responsible for taking one. If Elora had known this Chris would have been found out in his secret intentions. He most certainly would buy her a new pair of gloves and they would be of the finest quality that could be purchased in France.

"Well, if you can't find it, I'd be very grateful if you would get me a replacement. Nothing expensive, of course.–King Louis has given me so much already that I don't deserve. I would hate to have to ask him for another pair, how petty would that be."

"Elora, why do you not just buy a new pair with your allowance? What have you already spent it all on this month?" Cesaire's questions were bordering on intrusive and this he did not like.

"Allowance?"

"Yes…from the king, from your family monies."

"Ah, my family's money. This feels like the second time in ten minutes that this comes up again.–Well, the king spent the whole amount allotted to me for a year to purchase all the things I needed for court life and I have a room in the chateau after all, which I hear is very expensive. So asking for anything extra now is out of the question."

Her voice had become tense and her French was quick and broken. It was not often he had seen her so unsettled. They had either hit on a sore subject or she was lying. "No need to become defensive, Elora.–We certainly did not wish to make you uncomfortable." He kissed her hand, along with that sincere apology.

"Yes, I know." She began to turn her head and look about in an agitated manner. "I think I'm going to take a quiet walk alone in the garden before I head off to bed."

Feeling quite disturbed; he felt an urgent need to ease Elora Roux's distress. As soon as Elora, in her pink gown had disappeared through the crowds and out the doors Chris set out to look for a certain gentleman. He had some questions that were in need of answering. He looked through the room for the king's right-hand man and approached him as quickly and civilly possible.

"Your grace," said Colbert with a surprised tone. "For what do I owe such an honor?"

"I must ask you about the Comtesse de Valréas' circumstances. Why is she not receiving any allowance? Is it possible to advance her a small amount from next year's holdings?"

"What money and holdings are you speaking of, your grace? The Comtesse de Valréas possesses only one thing, her family title, which is not one of a very favored lineage. Her family left her with no monies, neither in property or investments. She is penniless, with a family name unfamiliar to all. She is a charity of the crown and has been bestowed great honor in her position at court. I apologize for being unable to grant your request, your grace."

Chris could hardly believe such things, but he knew Colbert never gave false information. It must be true. Elora had no money, not even enough for a pair of gloves. No wonder she had refused to go riding. It was very likely she not only did not own a horse, but also did not possess a riding habit either. Why had he not noticed before! She barely had a gown for every day of the week. She always made some excuse to avoid any activity they were about to do that involved money. Now he felt terrible for taking one of her gloves, something she obviously needed greatly. All romantic ideas had faded as he now forced his hand to his breast pocket and pulled from it her dainty lace glove.

He hurried to Cesaire and his sister to tell them of his discovery. The three of them could not be more heartbroken at Elora's sad state of affairs. They talked on this subject for an extended time. He wished he could just give her a purse full of coins, but he knew not only was that untoward, but also Elora would never accept it. Thérèse thought up the idea for them to sit down to a friendly game of cards and let Elora win. He knew his sister had doubled her allowance at playing cards in the short time she had been at court. The gaming rooms after dinner were always full of courtiers looking to throw their money away for a good time. This would be the ideal way for Elora to gain some funds. Now they would just need to convince her to take a few coins from them and they would throw a few games, soon she would be on her way to buying a suitable riding habit.

Elora joined them the next evening at the card table without much coaxing. She sat behind them watching them play for some time. Thérèse took time to explain the game and rules as they played. The game was called Bone-Ace, where the player tried to collect a small amount of the cards adding up to thirty-one without going over. The dealer dealt each of them one card at a time where they had the choice to stay with what they had or ask for another.

Elora's only comment was, "This kind of reminds me of Blackjack." Whatever Blackjack was he did not know, but was glad she understood the premise of the game. Thérèse handed her a gold louis very quietly and asked her to join them for at least one game. Elora conceded and put the louis on the table, looking to get dealt into the next game. They were all sure to either stay at a low number or ask for too many and get out for several games. Elora's stack of gold coins began to multiply into a tower to the point where they felt it was not longer necessary to throw the games. A few more nights with equal winnings she would have plenty of money to do with what she wanted. Chris was well pleased with himself.

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"The Comtesse is so lovely and innocent," sighed Louis as he paced in a large circle around his Council Room.

"The Comtesse de Maine is surely lovely, but certainly not innocent."

"No, Colbert, I am speaking of the Comtesse de Valréas."

He lifted his eyes from the book he was reading. "But what about–"

"She has begun to bore me."

Colbert puffed at his pipe and rubbed his chin. The king was moving on to another girl already. Why could he not keep a woman in his bed for any longer than a fortnight? Perhaps he had trouble performing. The mistresses he took certainly had nice figures, so it could not be a problem with them. Or perhaps he was still waiting for that _special_ woman to come into his life, the one he was always ranting about.

"Elora Roux, now she is anything but boring." Louis sat down beside Colbert in an energized manner, so that he sort of bounced into the chair. "She will indeed be my greatest conquest.–I intend to gain her full trust at whatever length it takes. Once I have that, she will obey my wishes fully."

"And I had believed you had lost interest in Elora Roux."

"No indeed, we converse daily. As long as she remains here at court she will continue to be honored in my favor and will be treated as such by all."

Colbert was not sure if he had seen the king so excited about a woman since he bedded his first girl when he was twelve. He knew Elora Roux must be a witch, no other way would his king possibly be so infatuated with that mistempered temptress.

"How can you be sure that she will give in to your seduction, Your Majesty? You think I do not, but I hear the things she says to you and the manner in which she speaks to you. She regards you as she would a servant, not as Your Royal Majesty deserves."

"Your observations are incorrect. She considers me her equal in a certain manner, which I find entirely amusing. What exactly have you heard us speaking of, when I assumed our conversations were private?"

Colbert's left eye twitched for a moment as the king struggled to defend her behavior. "You must confess Elora Roux is a singular woman. She does not comply with our protocol. I truly do not see how she can be so obstinate towards her betters. She has the countenance of a street urchin, not nobility. There is something you are not telling me about her."

"This distinction makes her the ideal woman for me. She is so unlike anyone I have ever known. Elora is quickly climbing up the list of my favorite ladies and I have not even won her yet."

"I have a suspicion you will lose this challenge."

Louis lifted his head higher and said defensively, "I will not fail. I have never failed."

"Your Majesty, someday one of these women is going to conquer _you."_

"And I suppose you think this woman will be Elora."

"I do indeed. With her witchcraft she will rule you. I agree she is different, but I see such a variance in her as a threat, unlike you who seems to find it endearing. "

"I have made love to many a lady. Elora Roux shall be no different in that aspect. A woman is still a woman, no matter anything."

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Danielle Manion, the Comtesse de Maine sat beside the king at a lawn table in the garden, with the rest of the court around them. It began as a very pleasant meal. The day was clear and bright. The buffet lunch had been set up in an ideal area of his gardens, by the canal. Though Danielle was looking fetching today, he was growing more and more uninterested with her.

He saw Elora sitting with her friends several tables from him. She had inadvertently made friends with the three most influential courtiers in France. Louis had always liked them, but now that he saw how the men were ogling over Elora he was having second thoughts. She was intended to be his. That is why she came from the future. The thought had come to mind often. God specifically placed her in his bed. It was a sign from the almighty saying, "Here she is. All yours for the keeping." If she had been meant for some other purpose then she would have woken somewhere else. If she were meant for some other man then she would not have been laid beside him in his own bed. Elora was not for those courtiers to toy with; she was for him, the king.

Her fairness was exquisite in the sunlight today. All the other ladies, including the chattering one sitting beside him were all making use of their parasols, preserving their delicate, pasty features. Elora Roux was the only lady taking a disregard to the common vanities of women. The lacey parasol, he was sure he provided her with, was being neglected on the grass under her chair.

He must have been looking upon Elora for too long a time because Danielle threw out a biting remark about her. She began to argue with him about Elora and his _platonic_ relationship. She picked the wrong moment to annoy him. It was high time to dismiss this mistress of his for good.

Elora sat silently, obviously listening, along with all the other courtiers as the argument between King Louis and the Danielle persisted. She must have heard her name being mentioned in a non-complementary fashion from Danielle's whiny, flapping mouth. Danielle said something to the degree that Louis was not as attentive to her as he was to Elora Roux.

Still she sat silently, not causing any further scene. The Duc de Chartres put his hand on her shoulder, when Danielle pointed at her. Now she not only accused her of having too close a relationship with him, but also had become belligerent and slandered her. Before Louis could reprove his shrill mistress, Elora got up from her seat and walked right over to her.

First giving a curtsey to the king, looking for an expression if approval for what she was about to do. She then turned to Danielle and flicked her on the forehead. No one knew what to make of what they had just seen, especially poor, pathetic Danielle. Were the ladies about to get into a brawl? If so, who would come out the victor?

"Hey Danielle, shut-up for a minute! Do you enjoy making a scene? What's your problem?"

"Elora Roux, you are foolish and inexperienced in the ways of the world, so you cannot understand my problems. I have been ruined." She wiped her tears away with a handkerchief. "I was seduced with sonnets of love…and now he's tired of me. He's casting me aside like an old shoe."

"I may be a trifle inexperienced with what you refer to as _the ways of the world_ Danielle, but I understand you perfectly. Stop wallowing in self-pity; you ruined yourself. No woman no matter how stupid, and I suspect that you're pretty stupid making this scene; no woman can be seduced unless she wants to be. You wanted the king just as much as he wanted you. Granted, the king is shameless when it comes to women, but you should have known better. All that concerned you was the temporary power you were allotted being the king's mistress. You speak of _love_; give me a break! The love you speak of is only a thin mask; what hides behind is lust. I can't imagine what you expected out of this relationship. You're past gracefully stepping down, for you have embarrassed yourself and the king by making this public. Try to preserve the dignity you have left and leave now.–But before you go you had better apologize to your king, who has the power of life or death over you."

The Comtesse de Maine unhappily went to her knees before him and apologized. As for her punishment, King Louis banished her from his court indefinitely. The Comtesse ran off crying, never to be seen again. Louis was still in shock from Elora Roux's outburst. She was always full of surprises.

He gave Elora a nod of acknowledgement before he went back into the chateau. It was days like this he wondered what prompted him to take a mistress at all.

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The next morning there was a beautiful scarlet riding habit delivered to Elora's chamber, compliments of King Louis. How had he known she had needed one? She never mentioned it. Elora sent him an invite to join them on a ride that afternoon, but he was too busy that day to accept. He did give her a note with his seal to give to the stable man to give her the choice of any of his mares to ride whenever she pleased. Louis always thought of everything. She was so happy to have him.

As the weeks had passed since their last scuffle, their acquaintance had turned into an intimate friendship. At least he was intimate on the level of being the only one to know her secret, thus he was only one she could really be her true, unharnessed self around. They had their share of disagreements in the past, but they had been just getting to know each other then. They had not been used to each other's ways of thinking and in turn were not so quick to be understanding of the other's position.

She knew this gift was because of what she said yesterday to his mistress, Danielle. She had hesitated to speak up, not wanting to disgrace the king, but she so wanted to put Danielle in her place. She did not for one moment suppose the king was faultless. It was likely Danielle who was being treated unfairly, but still Elora's only concern was for Louis. He was a king and surrounding him were his highest-ranking citizens, who respected him and an aristocratic slut was embarrassing him. So she did what she had to do and now she had a pretty riding outfit.

She quickly dressed and went out to join her friends who were surely already at the stables by this time preparing for their ride. She told her friends the good news, twirling around to show them her new attire. Their reaction was sheer joy and excitement.

After she insisted on mounting the horse with her legs astride it was then that she mentioned, "You know I probably should have told you guys this before I got on the horse…I don't really know how to ride.–Well, I rode once when I was about ten, but never since then."

The three of them looked awe struck. Thérèse's eyes widened, Chris jaw dropped, and Cesaire's eyebrows furrowed.

"In all your life you have only ridden a horse but _once_," blurted Cesaire.

"But what have you done for transportation?" asked Thérèse.

"Well I have always ridden in carriages. There are not a whole lot of horses back home."

"Have no worries Elora," comforted Chris, "You will have three excellent teachers here with you. We will make an expert horsewoman out of you."

She hated lying to them and was grateful Chris ended the uncomfortable conversation. He tended to do that a lot, like he could pick up on her discomfort when singled out in a conversation.

Horseback riding was great fun because of the company she held. She had never actually raced on a horse, it had always been the horse walking or at most at a slow trot. Even though she had her feet secured in the saddle and her hands were held tightly to the reigns when they raced down hill her heart pounded. It was exhilarating and slightly terrifying all at once.

Riding in a floor-length gown was not exactly the ideal garment to be wearing. She wished she had a sports bra on instead of the push-up corset under her habit. She had no idea how Thérèse could do it all side-saddle. Elora was having enough trouble securing she not pop out of her gown that she could barely concentrate on riding. They could not imagine her difficulties because they had been raised riding horses. She supposed if Chris and Thérèse were in the future with her they would have just as much trouble with the experience of driving a car as she did riding a horse.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Suzanne and she finally finished the pile of case papers, which for many weeks they had dedicated their entire mornings to completing. Though it had felt like more, all one hundred and twenty-six reports were ready to be turned in. Suzanne would deliver them to King Louis as soon as possible. Elora knew he would be pleased and fully expected a new pile to be waiting for her by the day's end. She had wanted to deliver them to him herself, but early that very afternoon she and her friends had planned a picnic then a boat ride on the Grand Canal. The soonest Louis could make time for her in his schedule was at that same time. Presently, the boat ride was a more important venture than waiting around in a sitting room for an hour before being admitted to see King Louis for five minutes. It was not a difficult decision to make.

Pleasantly full from their picnic lunch, she and Thérèse lounged in the boat as the men rowed. The shallop was a big, fancy rowboat, partially covered with a white velvet awning. This one was large enough to carry about six people, so there was plenty of room to move about with only four of them there.

Since Cesaire was discreetly courting Thérèse she was more often than not thrown together with Chris. Luckily she knew his desire was not for her, even though they spent many hours conversing with each other. She had expected he would be on the prowl. He was a duc after all and quite a handsome one at that. She had caught many ladies giggling and staring when he walked by them. He never seemed to notice them though. In a way she wanted him to because she knew every person was in need of that special one; yet she was also glad of his disinterest. If he went off with another girl and Thérèse went off with Cesaire she would be alone.

When the boys had rowed the shallop to the center of the lake Cesaire began goofing off and tickling Thérèse. He had shaken the little boat to an extent where it took them a few moments to recover. In this playful intent Cesaire unintentionally let go of the oars and they floated away before any of them could grab them. Elora could see the oars slowly bouncing along the rippling water farther and farther away from them.

"Damn it!" swore Cesaire. "And we would have to be the only boat out today."

"I almost grabbed one oar too, but it slid right out of my hand," yelled Chris.

"What are we to do now?" asked Thérèse.

Elora bent over the side and wiggled her fingers in the water; it was cool, but not cold. "Well, it's a hot day today. We'll just have to swim for it."

"We couldn't!" exclaimed Thérèse.

Elora assured her that they could. "If anyone saw us all jump into the canal we would be gossiped over for months."

"And is that so terrible, Thérèse?–Are the snobby courtier's opinions of you so vital to your existence?"

"Elora has a point, sister," said Chris.

"See, even your brother has a sense of adventure."

Thérèse hemmed and hawed for a minute, weighing over the pros and cons to such an idea. She admitted she had not swum in several years and supposed it could be fun. As soon as she agreed, Cesaire also announced he would join in the fun as well.

"Oh, before we go in I need to take off this gown or I'll sink right to the bottom.–Can you please unlace it, Chris?"

"Elora, never before was there a woman like you." Christophe was about to unlace her gown when his sister slapped his hand away from her lacing and pushed him away, nearly knocking him off the boat.

"Elora!" Thérèse chided. "What will people think, you walking about in broad daylight in your undergarments?–And Christophe, you're encouraging her!"

"Don't worry, it will just be while we are in the water. Once I reach the shore I'll put it right back on."

Still Thérèse shook her head.

"His Majesty would be terribly upset if I ruined one of these fine gowns he gave to me. And I would feel guilty about it. It is not like I have gowns to waste, I just have a few."

Thérèse gulped, desperate to change her mind. "Elora, please keep it on and if it is ruined then I promise to replace the gown at my own expense."

Elora shrugged her shoulders and conceded. Thérèse could be a very determined girl. She at least kicked off her shoes.

She was the first to go in, making an elegant swan-dive off the little boat. All at once, the others swiftly jumped into the canal waters. The water was cold, but refreshing on this surprisingly warm May day. Elora had never been in the water with a dress before. I was a weird feeling. The skirt was sort of fanning out like a parachute. It made her feel like a jellyfish. She swam on her back for a minute staring up at the luminous blue sky with not a single cloud in sight blemishing its brilliance.

Elora suggested a race to shore.

"We might as well make some fun of this awkward situation," laughed Cesaire.

"Whoever makes it to the willow tree, straight ahead, first wins."

It was a close race and Chris won. Elora was astonished seeing his expert-like, quick strokes. Of course she was at a disadvantage with her bloated dress. As she climbed from the canal her soaking wet gown stuck to her body like spaghetti to the wall. She could barely walk with her skirts so saturated. They were very heavy, so she did the only practical thing to be done; she began wringing out her skirts.

She caught Chris' forward glance; he did not miss a chance to get a look at her bare legs as she lifted her skirts. "Oh Chris, do you have to act like such a guy?"

"Elora, I am only a man after all. Your pale blue gown is clinging to you body in such a provocative way, showing off your shapely figure. How can any man resist?"

She could only shake her head to his humorous response. Cesaire was still helping Thérèse out of the water at that point.

"You came in a close second."

"Yes I would have won too if I did not have this bulky dress on."

"What do you usually swim in?"

She looked up at him, unable to describe her tiny bikini bathing suit to him. "In a lot less than this outfit, I promise you."

"I find it interesting you know how to swim, but not ride a horse? How did you learn to swim so well?"

"Here Chris, hold up my dress; I need to wring out these darn underskirts." He did so wordlessly, unable to stop himself from taking hold of her gown. "Seriously, what is the seventeenth-century fashion world thinking, having so many layers year round? Can't they get with the times and just wear pants?" Now what had possessed her to say such things out loud? "Don't listen to me Chris I'm just ranting.–Where were we? Oh swimming…I took lessons as a child."

He told her he has a lake on his estate when he had learned to swim at a very young age. This prompted her to ask about his property. She knew he was a duc, but had never thought about where he lived outside of court. He had an enormous castle that he had inherited when his father died. His mother was currently there running the household in his absence.

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What not one of them noticed was King Louis had been observing the whole affair, as soon as they had stepped onto the shallop. He knew Elora had a great deal more up her laced sleeve than she let appear, but this? He still could barely believe she had captured the attention of these two powerful men. He knew she was ambitious, but he had not expected her to be this good.

He came up behind them as they finished wringing out their clothes.

"Comtesse, a word with you." All four jumped at the sound of his voice behind them. They paid their respects to the king.

"My God, Your Majesty, did you really have to sneak up on us like that?" Elora asked, pressing her wet, flattened curls back behind her ears.

"I like to keep my courtiers on their toes."

"You certainly do a good job of that, Your Majesty," laughed Cesaire Lichault.

"I would steal Lady Elora away from you, my lords and my lady, if you do not mind."

They excused themselves, leaving Elora and he alone under the shade of the willow. He had been quite perturbed when Elora sent him a note saying she did not want to have an audience with him because she had better things to do this afternoon. Though she did not use those words exactly he read between the lines very well. These courtiers, which gave the appearance of offering friendship, were a more amusing pastime than he.

"Louis, I think I know what you came out here to say and I humbly ask you to refrain."

"Do you?"

"It is about the case reports. There no need to thank me. Just think of it as a way of reimbursement from me to you."

"Thank you?" Louis rasped. "Why would I thank you for the mockery you made with those silly reports?"

"My first thought is that you have to be joking. I have completed those reports with great pains. I have worked with Suzanne countless hours. Each paper concerns a life of a fellow human being. How can you call them silly?–I thought you would be proud of me."

"Between _community service_ of criminals and castration joined by life imprisonment of rapists you have made a fool of yourself." His step towards her was menacing and his infuriated glare was enough to put her on her guard. "And please explain to me why you wrote on many of them _time served_."

Her eyes began to well up, whether she knew it or not, as she yelled at him, "Who better to do community service than criminals, to make this country a bit more decent. It is a better use of their time than rotting away in prison, not being any help to anyone. Many have been imprisoned falsely or for minor crimes and have been caged in that dungeon for well over a year. They deserve to be set free and even given remuneration. As for castration of those perverted criminals, once a rapist always a rapist. Castration is a just punishment to the sexual abuse women receive from those perverts. If those are a fools idea's then I am proud to be a fool!"

Louis looked about to see no courtier was in sight and hopefully none were in hearing range to overhear. He had not expected such a rebuff. He had intended to speak to her calmly and explain the reports were of no use to him. She had just angered him when she presumed to think _he_ would stoop to thank her for something so useless.

He had to admit she had just now made a decently intelligent point. He was at a loss for words. Her ideas were not quite as ignorant as her actually thinking he would approve of such rulings for criminals. Besides if his advisors saw those reports they would know that those were not his ideas. He would have to give some explanation, which he could not do.

"Louis, you're wrong about those men. They deserve your concern. I only did my best to see some sort of justice done. Besides I never said I was a lawyer or judge. Healthcare is my calling. I wanted to do something here in the medical field, but you wouldn't let me.–I need to walk away now and don't even think about seeing me at dinner tonight because I won't be there!"

He stepped in her path as she went to storm off. He did not want things to end on such a note, but she was not dissuaded to stop. She pushed him out of her path with a forceful blow to his chest. Again he looked about to see if anyone had seen such a treasonous act, but the area was clear. Thank goodness the tree's low branches gave them a decent amount of privacy.

His thoughts for the rest of the day fell to that conversation he had with Elora Roux. He knew he had been harsh with her. She only tried to defend her ideas and he ridiculed her for it. Was this the sort of king he had become?

He ended his evening apologizing to Elora. He hated when she was angry with him. He felt like an idiot for saying those things to her. The fault was within him, not her. She was only doing his bidding. Why did Elora always make him feel like an unscrupulous person? Before she came into his life he never felt guilt for his erroneous actions.

Louis disliked not liking himself. He longed for Elora; he had to win her. Her face haunted his dreams. He knew she would have to love him fully before she would succumb to his intentions. His natural charm did not seem to fool her. Louis needed to think of a dandy to win her heart.

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The court was having a special dinner party to welcome the Ambassador from England to Versailles. Elora was hoping to speak with him some time in the evening. Though he was not her countryman, it would still be nice to have a conversation in English with someone other than King Louis.

She walked into the dining hall and sat at the far end of the table with Thérèse, Christophe, and Cesaire. The king began the dinner within moments of sitting down, not even giving some of the courtiers time to seat themselves. Elora figured he was either really hungry or the Ambassador's conversation was boring him. It was likely the latter because she observed a momentary bored, slightly annoyed look from Louis aimed toward the Ambassador just before he stood to announce dinner be served.

The king looked very nice in his royal blue outfit. He was not wearing that dreadful wig he wore on most occasions. His handsome brown hair hung down by his shoulders with his bejeweled crown sitting upon his head. She would have to make it a point to mention it sometime over the course of the evening.

She had barely taken two bites of her sliced fruit when there was a greater commotion than normal by end of the table where the king was sitting.

Then a few seconds later a woman began screaming, "He's choking!"

Elora intuitively stood, knocking over her chair as she ran toward the screams. The Duc de Nevers was standing by his wife. His face was red and his hands were grasping at his throat. She knew him by introduction only; maybe conversing with him once before. He was a porky middle-aged man, normally very jovial. A girl had to watch her back with him; he had a tendency to pat lady's behinds every chance he got. Elora had a few close encounters with him herself.

"Everybody, move back," Elora screamed pushing through the crowd, moving past Louis. "Sir, are you choking?"

The Duc nodded furiously.

Louis touched Elora's arm and asked what she was doing. She shot her head toward him and glared into his eyes, piercing him with her annoyance. "Trying to save this man's life."

She knew the Heimlich was not yet invented, hence why everyone was just standing helplessly around the Duc. Though she had only ever done it on a dummy, she would not tell them that. There was nothing to lose. She had to try.

"I'm going to give you a squeeze to help push the food out of your throat!" She stood behind him and thrust her fists into his abdomen, like how she had been shown in the class. The Duc de Nevers was a big guy, so she was having trouble using the force she needed to dislodge the food.

The Duc began to lose consciousness and thankfully Chris was right there to help her lower him to the floor. The crowd roared, the Duchesse screamed, for they all thought he was dead. At least now she had a chance with him being unconscious. His muscles probably loosened so she would be able to get whatever he was choking on dislodged from his throat.

Without concerning herself with the confused, seventeenth-century gawkers crowded around, she straddled the duc and began the abdominal thrusts again.

"Comtesse!" screamed King Louis.

She did not answer him; she was too concerned with the Duc. Five thrusts at a time, she thought.

The every person in the room gathered around, including the Duchesse de Nevers. Elora tried her best to remember his wife's name; was it Arlette or Annette? Whatever her name was, she was a little too close for comfort. King Louis had to grab hold of Lady A just to keep her from lunging at her. She screamed that all the Elora was doing was defiling her husband's remains.

After about a minute her arms began to tire. It seemed a hopeless case. Then at the beginning of the second minute he turned his head and coughed up a large strawberry. It did not shoot across the room, like she expected from the movies. It merely popped out of his mouth onto the floor beside him.

There room was full of relieved sighs and claps celebrating Elora's achievement.

"It's a miracle," cried the Duchesse as she wrapped her arms around her beloved husband, who was slowly becoming conscious again. She asked if some gentlemen would help him to bedchamber. The king took a moment to explain to the Ambassador what he had just witnessed. Louis' tone was apologetic; she must have embarrassed him a lot. She now remembered pushing through the crowd of people and nearly knocking over one older gentleman of at least sixty. She looked up to confirm it; yes it was the Ambassador she had practically tackled as she made her way to the Duc de Nevers only minutes ago.

Chris moved closer to Elora as she still knelt on the floor, exhausted. Her forehead was moist, with a few beads of sweat trickling down. He bent down, wordlessly giving her his handkerchief to wipe her face. Then he helped her stand. "Elora, where did you learn to do that?"

As she opened her mouth to answer Thérèse put her arm around her. "I think God lent you his hands today. It would be best for you to go back to your chamber and rest a while."

Elora nodded, ready to leave. Chris was glad to be the one to take her, but the king tapped his shoulder, asking him to step aside. She knew Louis would have a great deal to say about her actions today. She stopped before the Ambassador, with a curtsy. She did her very best to use her most well pronounced English words, "Your Excellency, I apologize for colliding into you earlier. I am afraid I gave you a poor impression of this court. My mind was in another place when I bumped you and I am afraid my only concern was in helping His Grace the Duc. Welcome to Versailles."

"My lady, no offence has been taken. Your actions were remarkable. I dare say if tomorrow is half as exciting as this, then I shall find Versailles a quite enjoyable place indeed. May I compliment you on your English."

"No compliment is necessary. English is my native language."

"A compatriot, I mistook you for a French-born lady."

"No, my allegiances do not lie in England or in France, but this is my home now. It is nice to have met you and I would love to speak with you again soon when there is less commotion about."

Louis took her arm and escorted her down the hall.

Once they were alone, Elora rested her head on Louis' shoulder as they walked. She loved the soft feeling of his brocaded silk doublet against her cheek. They treaded down the halls and up the staircase in silence until they reached her room.

"Your Majesty, please come in. I know you have something to say." She took him by the hand and led him in her chamber.

"Elora, did you just do something futuristic just now? You should not have."

"Louis, how could I just sit there and watch a man die when I know what I know? While all along I knew there was something in my control that I could do to save him."

"You should have kept out of it. This is the natural way of life here. Death is sometimes brought on by a choking episode. If it were only myself I would say it was a heroic action. Others think differently though. Now if you are accused of witchcraft I cannot help you. You made this scene too public."

She had not realized what she did was so serious. It was not like she pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911 in the middle of the court. Could they call her a witch just from saving a man's life? This could have been the reason she was sent here. Maybe the Duc was going to be great grandfather to someone renowned in the future, like the guy who invented antibiotics. God would not have put her in that situation if she were not meant to do his work.

"If any issues arise, I will face the consequences of my actions. And if I die it will be with a clear conscious. I will not have blood on my hands.–Louis, just call me a hero before the church calls me a witch."

"I will do my best." He took her hand. "Elora, if I were in the Duc's position would you save me?"

She rested her other hand on his, emphasizing her devotion. "In a heartbeat. Louis, I'll do anything for you, whether you're ill or not. You are my best friend here. I like Thérèse and Suzanne well enough, but I always need to restrain myself with them. I have the freedom to tell you anything. And I have no intention on letting you die under my watch.–We have to make it a point to hang out together more often." She hugged him as a thank you.

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Thérèse was still recollecting what she had seen at dinner. She stood between Cesaire and Christophe who were both just as in shock as she. Not a word was spoken between them as they listened to all the conversations going on around them.

She hardly could believe her gentle friend was capable of such actions. Elora had brought back life to the Duc de Nevers! When the king had left the hall, Elora's name was on the tip of every courtier's tongue. Many were grateful and in awe of the miracle, others though were critical and spiteful with their words. Such words floated through the room such as: _magic_, _witchcraft_, and _heathen_ _medicine_. Doubts about Elora's lineage were brought up because her actions were not something a young lady should be practicing. Though the end result of that evening was that Elora Roux had done a good thing, it was quite a consensus from the roomful of courtiers, that the Comtesse de Valréas' reputation was surely ruined from that outburst.

Thérèse's heart broke, fearing the fate Elora would soon have to face if things did not turn in her favor. The king's behavior was also of interest to the room full of courtiers. He had stood by, making no attempt to stop Elora's reckless behavior. He did not even send for one of his physicians.

His face did not often reveal his thoughts or emotions. But in seeing Elora grabbing at the Duc de Nevers and then slamming her fists into his chest she looked over to see what appeared to be interest on King Louis' face; not affected with distress as everyone else in the room was. She now heard a few others had observed it as well as she. Had the king expected something like this to happen? Which made her think more on, what did the king know about Elora that she did not?

Thérèse had seen her move toward the dying Duc de Nevers as if she were in a trance. She observed more of Elora's actions than most, even her lovesick brother. It almost seemed that her rescue was an instinctive reaction; almost as if she was a physician or at least had a rudimentary knowledge of the science. She had just brought a man back from the dead, yet it seemed so natural to Elora. She had never heard of such a thing, other than the miracles of Christ.

Elora had never really told her much about her family or about her past. At times it was almost like she made it a point not to say. Thérèse knew she was provided with advanced studies with her tutors throughout her young life and was well versed in many of the arts and sciences. Elora did mention briefly in one meeting that she had been friendly with a physician for many years. Perhaps he had taught her things. Still she could not see how a physician instructing a lady could be deemed appropriate. Did the late Comte and Comtesse de Valréas not set any boundaries with Elora's studies? In what sort of society could she have lived in America?

She only prayed King Louis was not offended by her behavior; for if he was Elora's future at Versailles would be nonexistent. When the king led Elora back to her chambers himself, his particular attention could only be taken as a good sign. The idea had been whispered since Elora's arrival at court she might secretly be the king's lover. Thérèse knew this to be untrue, but had always cautioned her about the king's behavior with women and the expectations he has when he decides which lady he wants. Elora was too close to him for her own good.

The king returned alone to the hall not long after he had left with the Comtesse de Valréas on his arm. Supper finished quickly and the Ambassador of England was further introduced to the prominent members of court. She was going to have to call on Elora in the morning and speak with her further on tonight's happenings.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Christophe walked beside Elora in the garden by the Green Carpet, in the late morning. Strolling alongside them was Thérèse on Cesaire's arm whispering to each other. The sun was shining bright and Elora would have done anything to be wearing her sunglasses and baseball cap right then. Instead she had to tote around a frilly lace umbrella, which was not very effective at keeping the glaring light out of her eyes.

The umbrella reminded her of one Halloween when she was maybe eight. She had dressed up as Little Bow Peep. Her pink gown and lace umbrella were so precious to her back then. She even wore the costume around the house after Halloween was over. Then she remembered the day Damien stole the umbrella from her and broke it. Life was never the same again after the umbrella was gone. She looked down and noticed she was wearing a pink and white gown, what a coincidence!

Christophe began to speak of this hunting party they were going out on with the king the next day. She became slightly defensive, still thinking about her old, broken umbrella when she answered that she had just spoken with the king the previous night and he had never mentioned they were going somewhere.

"That is because you were not invited," laughed Cesaire.

Elora took offense, demanding to know why she would not have been invited. The courtiers seemed to have forgotten not two days later about her performing the Heimlich on the Duc de Nevers. No one had made a fuss about that, so what else could it be? She believed she was still in the king's good graces and all her friends were going. That had really been rude of Louis, she thought.

"Well, can you shoot a musket?" asked Chris.

"I've never tried, but it seems easy enough. I'm sure I could pick it up quick."

"Sorry, even if you were skilled enough to brave the hunt you still could not come," said Christophe, tapping Elora's arm as one would tap a child's head in a condescending manner.

"Now, Brother," interceded Thérèse. "I will not let you torment our dear Elora like this.–You see, Elora, the only courtiers invited are the gentlemen. The king prefers it that way."

"No women," Elora said coarsely.

"Not one." Thérèse broke out into giggles and Elora followed.

She let go of Chris' arm and took hold of Thérèse. "So, now we will finally have peace at Versailles with the men gone. It's about time they go off on a bender or whatever they call it. The men are always loud and drunk while they are here."

"And they can never let us alone. There is always some fool trying to steal a kiss." Thérèse made an obvious look at Cesaire, which Chris did not miss. His smile faded in an instant, looking slightly aggressive at Cesaire, who could only smile guiltily.

Elora squeezed Thérèse's arm playfully. She was sort of glad they would be rid of the king and the men for a few days. It would be nice to have some girl time to spend with Thérèse and the other ladies.

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Later that evening Christophe offered to walk Elora back to her room after the dinner festivities had ended. He held her hand as he bid her goodnight. Drawing up some courage he to softly told her he would miss her. She did not react as he expected though. Her two-breath laugh at his heartfelt confession stopped him from leaning in to kiss her.

She tipped her head slightly to the left, like she usually did when she doubted someone. "You will only be gone three days, Chris."

"That is four thousand, three-hundred and twenty minutes without you."

Her eyes rolled, seeming impressed. "Wow, you've thought about this a lot more than me.–I'll miss you too. Try to enjoy the trip. Thérèse and I will be here when you get back."

Every time he tried to get close to Elora Roux, she pushed him farther away. "Elora, I've been wondering about something. Can you tell me why you came to court?"

"I thought everyone already knew. My family is gone. God placed me in the safe keeping of His Majesty." She appeared to choose her words very carefully, like she was purposely leaving something vital out of it.

"But what is your purpose while you are here? You must want something."

"To live. To endeavor to earn all the kindnesses the king has done for me. To do Christ's work. To make a positive contribution in the world, toward helping mankind."

"Is that all?" he questioned, wanting more from her.

"Well, that's a lot as it is."

"But do you not want to find a husband?"

"Oh.–Now you're thinking like a courtier. Why…are you looking to set me up with someone? A husband is really the farthest thing from my mind at present. I don't mind being single. The last man I dated…I went out with him for nearly four years. It sort of ended on a bad note; at least I think so. My last day at home is still a blur. All I remember before I left was being very upset and taking off the clatter ring he gave me at graduation two years ago. I was determined never to put it back on."

This was interesting news. She had made it seem before now that she had never been involved in anything so significant. "So you have been engaged?"

"No, when he gave me the ring we had just finished school and had our lives ahead of us. Marriage was the last thing on either of our minds. Looking back on it, I think he just gave the ring to me thinking it would get him laid. Boy was he mistaken.–I'm not saying my heart's broken, but I'm really not interested in beginning again." She shook her head, looking all about as if she were dissatisfied with what she saw. "At least not here."

"_Here_…why do you say it like that? Are you planning on leaving Versailles? Where else other than court could be better, especially at this time in your life?"

"I'm here indefinitely with no plans on leaving any time soon.–I might ask you the same question, Chris. What's your purpose in coming to Versailles? You don't appear to be wife-hunting."

She was acting so blasé about _their_ relationship. He was nervous to answer her. "A wife would certainly be a blessing. It is really up to the king whom I marry. If I did have some special lady in mind, he would not deny me." He took a moment to look down at Elora, hoping to see some glimmer of desire in her, some secret determination she be that special lady, but he saw nothing except keen interest in her expression. "My priority at court is to serve my king, but I am more interested in finding a wife whom I can love."

"I am very glad you think that way. Most people here at Versailles do not reason in love when contemplating marriage; at least in what I have seen. I believe love to be a key ingredient to attain an agreeable marriage. I am proud to be your friend, Chris."

Again her words left him speechless. He bid her goodnight again and took his time kissing her hand. As he left her, he saw her smiling at him. At least the evening was not a complete loss. He wondered if it was really possible that Elora did not know that he was courting her. She never had that shy, feminine look women had when they were complimented. She was oblivious to his subtle hints, like the missing glove and his tender words. His love for her grew every day, but did she love him? No, he would not even consider doubting it. Of course she loved him; she perhaps did not yet know the depths of her own feelings. He should ask his sister her thoughts on the matter. She would know for certain what was in Elora's heart.

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For the next three days all of the favored gentlemen of the court were to come away with Louis on a hunt. He needed a break from the daily responsibilities of the court. Every couple of months he enjoyed a fresh scene. The idea of no ladies for three days was refreshing. The Comtesse de Maine had been a handful and he was glad to be rid of her. Thanks to Elora Roux that had been the most amusing dismissal of a mistress he had in a great while.

Lately, whenever something entertaining happened Elora was sure to be at the center of it. Not a week ago, she had saved the life of the Duc de Nevers. He was quite sure nothing could be done when the Duc's face turned a purplish-pink, as his lips became deathly blue. He knew the man's life would be over in minutes and there was nothing anyone could do to stop the inevitable. The angel of death of loomed overhead that day for certain. Then Elora Roux pushed her way through the crowd. Her eyes had a look of determination that could not be halted.

Louis knew she was about to do something scandalous. He wanted to stop her, but he feared whether or not she would listen to his order. He knew by now she did not like to be commanded by him. He apprehended the likelihood of her public refusal; for it would give off an awful impression in front of his subjects. So he took a step back to let her proceed, neither saying a word nor reaching out; whether she would ruin herself from such an action or not he could not guess.

Upon seeing the fruit pop from the Duc's mouth and soon after regaining consciousness, Louis was relieved beyond words. It was in that moment he knew God had truly sent him a gift with Elora. She was different in so many ways and was not hesitant to allow people to see those things that make her peculiar. If he were her, he would want to hide away everything true about himself and let everyone see the person they want him to be, not the person he was.

The more he saw of Elora the better he was able to envision the future where she had come from. The only way he would ever really see that time would be when he was dead, looking down upon the world from heaven.

He would have to go hunting with her someday this season. Perhaps hunt for wild game. She would likely enjoy that very much. This time though it would just be the gentlemen. He had asked his cousin, the Duc de Chartres to ride alongside him. All he could speak about was Elora Roux. Every time Louis managed to change the subject off women, Chartres was back on it again. How dull he was becoming.

This time last year Christophe Morlaix was the same as he, either bragging over his latest conquest be it the ladies or in hunting. He had never been a particularly sentimental man. He was one who fully embraced the vanities of court life and all the intrigue that came along with it. For years Louis observed this much from his cousin. Now since knowing Elora, Chartres had become a lovelorn whelp. He could hardly blame him for gaining such feelings for Elora, especially since he had been spending so much time around her. Between her convictions and her amusing demeanor and her determination, her person was wholly intoxicating.

Chartres had a few successful shots and his conversation turned toward the hunt and his new flintlock musket. Now everything was as it should be. Louis ordered the meat be taken back to the chateau. They were to stay at a lodge on the outskirts of Versailles. There was a particular stag the Master of the Hunt had been tracking that he wanted to mount on his wall. He was determined to get it this time around. It had eluded the hunting party when they last want out for it last autumn.

Arriving at his majestic lodge just at dinner time, Louis was well pleased. Their meal was waiting for them as soon as they finished changing into fresh attire. He played a bit of cards and billiards before retiring for the evening.

By the third day he was still going out after the stag, followed his party of gentlemen. The ground was soft and muddy after a long night of raining. His horse got caught only once in the muck. It began to rain lightly, but Louis refused all suggestions to turn back. The hounds had already been released. He was determined to get that light-footed stag. So they all ventured on through the rain.

After three hours of tracking the beast in the pouring rain, Louis finally had a good shot of it. The carcass was loaded on a wagon to be taken back to the Versailles Chateau. He was well satisfied with his conquest and every man congratulated him. It was not until he was riding back to the lodge that he noticed how wet and cold he had become. He had never been so careless with his body nor so focused on a task. He ordered a servant to ride ahead to prepare his chambers with a roaring fire and warm clothes. He would certainly need to be of a comfortable temperature again before setting off to Versailles.

After dressing in fresh riding attire and consuming a hot refreshment he was fully prepared to make it to Versailles before sunset. From a distance Louis could see Elora was waiting at the gates to greet him. He thought it was such a pity she was not willing to become his mistress. He had not had a woman while he was off on the hunt and Elora was looking quite enticing in her low-cut, midnight-blue satin gown. He did not understand why a woman, even one from the future, would not desire him for a lover.

As Elora welcomed him home with a smile, he realized that she, a woman, was far superior to most men he knew. If she were only a man, she would be able to do anything. He smiled to himself knowing what kind of retort Elora would have should he have said this out loud. _"Women are capable of doing anything men can do!"_ she would screech. But if she were a man he would not enjoy the sight of her as much; the company would be similar, but his delight in her complexion would be lost.

"Well did you enjoy your vacation; killing defenseless animals with weapons created by the very Devil?" joked Elora.

King Louis chuckled as he dismounted from his snow-white steed. "Elora, your cheerful comments are always refreshing. Yes, I had a wonderful time. But I did miss your lovely presence." He kissed her hand.

"Oh, go work your magic on some simpering coquette, you lady's man. Go slick your lust with one that's more disposed to the idea, then later we can talk about your trip."

"I fear you know me all too well, Elora."

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The morning following King Louis' and all the men's return to the chateau Elora slept in. She had done a lot of dancing the previous night and she had fallen into bed exhausted. Loudly, Suzanne came running into Elora's room and slammed the door.

"My lady Elora, you must wake up! The king is terribly ill. The servants are saying he has been ill since last night. He has the fever! They believe it to be consumption. The physicians have been bleeding him these past few hours."

"What? For a fever? Oh my God! I have to do something." Elora got out of bed and began getting dressed. "Go get a message to Leon. Say that he needs to tell the king I must see him immediately before the doctors do anything more to him. Go now, hurry! I can finish dressing on my own."

Elora took barely five minutes to get herself looking somewhat decent. She practically ran down the stairs and down the hall to the king's chamber. She was left in the waiting room only a few minutes when she saw Leon usher the doctors out of Louis' room and motion for her to enter. The four doctors did not look too pleased with her intrusion.

As soon as she got into the room she heard King Louis' phlegm-based coughing before she even saw him in his bed. He looked terribly pale. His hair, which was always neatly tied back was strewn across his face in thin strands, wet from sweat.

She looked at the phlegm in his handkerchief and it was not bloody. She thanked God, for a brief moment, glad he was not sick with consumption. If it had been consumption there would have been nothing she could do. He would have died a slow and painful death.

With his nightshirt unbuttoned she could see three of the leeches feasting on chest. How was she to get those things out of him? He explained in a weak, hoarse voice that he woke this morning with an ache in his head, a painful throat, and a congested nose. She felt his burning forehead.

"Seems to me like you just have a cold. But I am worried about this fever."

"Dr. Dubuque has already begun to bleed me to rid the fever."

She made an attempt to pull the bugs from his chest, but they were in pretty deep. "I can see that. How could you let him do this to you? You may believe that these bloodsuckers will be the cure of this illness, but I can pretty much guarantee you this will only make you sicker." She looked to the small fire lit in the marble fireplace. Lighting a small twig, she then blew out the flame. Pressing the scorching stick to the leeches, one by one they began to pull themselves out of his chest. "I know a thing or two about modern medicine. Bloodletting, unless done in moderation, for the correct purposes can be fatal. Losing blood will not take the illness away. When you're deprived of blood, it lowers your immunity, which makes you weaker and more susceptible to disease. This procedure is never done to help someone recover from a chest cold and fever. Please Louis, let me treat you. I have a whole bottle of pills in my pocketbook that will at least help your fever; I'm certain."

"Will I die?"

At first Elora almost laughed at his remark. She remembered her History of Disease class she took freshman year, now relating it to Louis' present situation. King Louis did not have the same immune system of someone from the twenty-first century. People in this time died all the time of little things. What if Louis were to become in need of antibiotics that she had no way of producing for him?

"I don't think there is reason yet to worry, Your Majesty. You should be all better in a week or two." She hoped.

"So will you care for me until I am well?"

He really must be sick, she thought. He never usually _asked_ her if she would do things for him, with Louis it was always orders.

"You have like a dozen doctors for yourself. Why would you want me?"

"Because I want thirteen. You have already said their treatment is useless. You will be the one to save me, I know it. You will care for me, not because it is your duty, but because you care about my life."

"Certainly. I will be here for you as long as you need me."

"I am grateful…"

"Hey, that's what friends are for."

King Louis appointed Elora as his _health advisor_ during the extent of this illness. He assured all that he had complete confidence and faith in her. She sat quietly in the chair beside the bed, looking at the carpet as the king told Doctor Dubuque about his decision.

He was stunned when King Louis told him his services were not needed. At first he seemed to think it a jest, then perhaps that the king was delirious. After a moment of looking at the king's stern face he began to see it as a truth. Next, he did the one thing she thought she had been the only one to do to the king…argue.

His mind worked by logic and science. He could not find reason with the king's decision nor would he.

Elora knew Doctor Dubuque was right in most of his argument. He was the king's appointed physician. He was one of the most accomplished doctors in all of Europe. He had many years of experience dealing with illness. She on the other hand was viewed perhaps as an educated female, but certainly not a professional. What he did not know or even suspect was her futuristic experience with medicine and her endeavors and capabilities to become a professional.

Louis was still firm. He handled the situation diplomatically, more so than she ever would have been able to do. Though the good doctor controlled his outrage in the king's presence, he did not do so for very long after he was excused. They heard him in the next room throw his medical bag against the wall as he left.

The next couple of days Louis' health took a turn for the worse. All of the doctors wanted to continue to bleed him, but she would not let them. She did not hold her breath expecting the doctors to believe her. They had lived their whole lives doing things a certain way. They would not change their practice just because some foreigner, who was not even a doctor and a woman at that, told them differently.

Elora understood that illness in the seventeen hundreds ended in more fatalities than it did in her time. People died from the common cold here. These people had no vaccinations, no modern medications, and no therapies. Their bodies were much more delicate than her body was. She did not know how she could possibly keep a sick person alive without proper essentials? Her worries only increased the more she thought about it. She would just have to treat Louis like an immunocompromised patient in all aspects.

When returning from supper the next night, she found Doctor Dubuque in Louis' room. She was even more surprised to find that he had a small jar of leeches in his hand. Louis was still sleeping and she did not intend for him to be woken to a disturbing scene of them fighting. She motioned for the doctor to follow her out of the bedroom.

He did not fight her as she wordlessly pulled him out into the Hall of Mirrors. Not only did she slap his cheek, but she took from him the jar of leeches and threw them out an open window.

"I tell you he will die if you persist in this radical treatment," he screamed at her.

"I'm sorry I do not agree with your methods, Doctor. I do not mean to be taking your place, it was not exactly my intention, but two days ago it became the king's orders. My methods surely seem as ridiculous to you as I see in yours, but I promise you they are the best possible ways to treat his condition. I promise you further that I will let no further harm come to the king and I will make him well again. I will not let him die."

Though she did not convince him, he left her alone from then on. Elora new residence for the duration of the king's illness was now on the velvet sofa in his bedroom. She thought it best to be near him at all times.

If the royal doctors hounding her were not bad enough, Colbert was also extremely bothersome. His visits were always so long and she was always kicked out of the room. She knew he had Louis' best interest at heart through all of this, but there was still something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. His was not phony interest either. Not as the doctors or many of the other courtiers; his was genuine. He was taking Louis' illness personally. She was glad the king had at least one other person in his life who was looking out for his best interests. That did not mean he approved of her, oh no. She was definitely a thorn in his side and always would be. She did not quite know the details of why he disliked her so, but she did not really care. If King Louis had not given consent for her to be the only soul to take care of him she thought Colbert would have had her put in the dungeons. She wished the man would take a vacation or something.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

When Louis woke feeling ill, his first thought turned to Elora. He had heard what his physicians believed and proposed to do, but he wanted to hear her ideas. Elora's certainty after assessing him was filled with just as much conviction as the other physicians, except her theories differed completely from the others.

He heard the physicians speaking in incomprehensible terms about the separate cause of each symptom he was presenting with. He felt they were merely speaking so because they really had no idea how to cure him. Though he was ill and certainly not of sound a mind as he was normally he still believed Elora's approach was best.

She had done such a fantastic job saving the life of the Duc de Nevers, he thought she could now save him too. Even though she had ferociously pounded the Duc's chest until his breath returned, as frightening of a sight it was, he still respected her knowledge. If it were not for her wisdom and courage that gentleman would not be alive today. If he had died he would not have such a powerful ally in the east of France today. The Duc's son was still very young and the Duchesse excelled at only one demand of her status, throwing fanciful gala's every spring at her chateau. For years, the present Duc de Nevers had done his part protecting the border and keeping peace with the Germans. If he had died so soon his death would have caused more than one repercussion.

He had been worried about the consequences of her kind, but thoughtless act. Before he declared Elora Roux the Duc' savior, the Duchesse had already done it for him. A woman's gossip always spreads the quickest, like the plague. After the initial shock of seeing her husband seemingly die and then miraculously return to life, she was so grateful to the Comtesse. For even though she was much younger than her husband, she loved him very much.

Now that Louis was ill, he wanted his own slice of Elora's futuristic medical expertise. So the moment she requested to see him, he was not slow in rushing the doctors out of his chambers. He knew Elora could do more for him than any of those twits. She was studying to become a physician after all. She emphasized to him that she was still a beginner. She still had two years left before she got her Bachelor's Degree…whatever that was.

Nevertheless, she was as much eager to care for him as he was for her to do so. His physicians had been discouraging. They had those "he looks as if he is about to die" faces, but would not dare speak their thoughts aloud to him. After Elora assessed him though she insisted that he would be fully recovered in a few weeks. King Louis was still unsure whether he really would survive. He never felt so ill. His head was pounding and too heavy to lift from the pillow. The congested cough made him feel as if he could not catch his breath. The tablets Elora had him swallow reduced his fever, which helped him to relax long enough to sleep.

She took over his complete care, asking only that no the other doctor interfere with her methods of treatment. Without even asking him she began to sleep in the same room as he. She did everything for him and more. She designed a specific diet for him, fed him, bathed him, dressed him, helped him move about, and even entertained him. She did not leave the room often, perhaps once every couple of days to bathe or take in some fresh air. If she were not there, it would take at least fifteen of his servants to do the very same as she was doing for him on her own.

Strangely, she became upset when she found out he only had a bath once every two weeks. She insisted he have at least a partial bath every day in bed. She said she did not need him getting even sicker from uncleanliness and she mentioned the potential for a distasteful body odor; so he complied to her regimen even though he thought it ridiculous to bathe so frequently. He had thought when she said that she would get a male servant in the room to assist him, but no she was determined. He was more than a little uncomfortable with the idea of Elora washing him. It could be such a romantic thing, but to her it was only a task. He was surprised Elora never cracked a smile nor blushed while she gently cleaned his chest with a soft cloth. She was very serious when it came to her job.

She was not even slightly disgusted when he coughed up phlegm. In fact she repeatedly asked him if she could look at it. She told him the color was important. When his chest wall could take not more coughing, she helped him with that too. She called it _chest percussion_. She had him lie on his stomach, his head at a downward angle. With her healing hands she did this tapping up his back. It worked well, the phlegm came out with less strain.

He could tell by Elora's gaze that her attachment to him was growing and that she might perhaps be falling in love with him. The times she sat beside him in the bed reading to him, she sometimes paused to look on him and she had a fond expression on her rosy face.

She spoke to him a lot of the time in English. He supposed he was the only one she felt comfortable with to do so. He did not mind at all, especially because Elora took so much pleasure in speaking when she spoke in English. When she spoke French it sounded slightly forced and she hesitated at times, trying to search her mind for the correct word.

Hers was the first face he saw in the morning and the last he saw at night. Sometimes she fell asleep next to him on the bed after hours of reading aloud, which was always a treat for him. Their situation had all the ingredients of a marriage, except for the most important part, romance. She never dressed up, unless she was leaving his chambers. She wore her hair loose, uncurled, and relaxed; falling down her back and brushing across her shoulders.

Then there was the matter of her garb he had to quickly adjust himself to. She adorned herself with neither corset nor any petticoats. She wore a sleeveless bodice and a single skirt, which she pulled forward between her legs and further tucked it in at her waist, making a sort of short pant. Again she had no humility, flaunting her legs in front him. He cursed he was physically too weak to take advantage of her displayed body.

His fondness for her was rapidly growing. It was moments like this he wished he lived a simpler, quiet life. Kingship would be far from him. He would have a small chateau and Elora could be his wife and their days would be filled with days like this; spending so much time with each other, without the likelihood of an audience. They could leisurely reside in the country and be informal every day. He believed he could be just as happy in that life as he could be in this one where he was king.

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A week passed when Elora observed King Louis was getting over the hump of the illness. The king's advisors insisted, after the first week, he return to governing his country. Elora only allowed them in the room for short periods because Louis needed his rest.

She only left the room for when absolutely necessary. Thérèse called on her a couple of times to keep her informed about the court gossip. She was not surprised when told the gossip was all about she and Louis. Either she was a madwoman for refusing to let the doctors properly care for the king or she was a slut having become the king's latest mistress. Either way nothing good was being said about her.

When she returned the king back to being a healthy, robust man again and they saw she was not romantically entangled with the king, everything would be set right, but for now she had to remain where she was, caring for the king. He deserved to live more than her reputation deserved a good name and that was her final resolve on the matter.

One morning, after she had finished doing chest percussion on Louis and had moved onto the task of brushing out his brown hair he started telling her about his life.

"I am confident you have already established I have not been king for very long. My father, before me was an excellent king. He died when I was just five years old. My mother and Cardinal Mazarin were really the rulers behind the crown for many years, but they are both dead now. My actual coronation was not until eight years ago."

She sat behind him on the bed, brushing and braiding his hair. She was sure he had no idea what she was doing; he was so consumed with himself he did not notice. For her sole amusement she used to braid Wesley's hair when he was a baby, but his hair was never this long. She wondered what her brothers would be doing at that moment, if time were continuing on without her in the future; probably playing one of their video games in the toy room.

"I intend to be the best king ever to rule France. I simply have not found my place among the people yet. I want to enjoy my youth and not worry about the fate of my country. I want to be entertained publicly and privately. I do so adore having all this power; it keeps me amused having all the country adore me."

Elora thought he had to be kidding, if not he was impossible. She pulled his hair on purpose and got the desired response of an "ouch".

"Thank you for trusting me with such a confession, Louis. I don't mean to discourage you from further confiding in me, but don't you think about anyone but yourself. You are king and that is the job that you were born to do. You are special, unlike anyone in the kingdom, but I wonder, do you think too much about this responsibility as privilege? This is a job where you can't think about yourself always; and it's about time to stop. Really, your life is for the people of this country and you should do your best to make this time golden, like Solomon. You, this handsome young man before me, are the only one who has the power to do this." Elora did not expect the king to really take in what she had to say seriously, but she could tell by his wide-eyed expression when he turned around that she had grabbed his attention.

"Elora, I do not tell you how to be a healer and you should not tell me how to rule."

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to give you a different perspective."

Louis gave her that "you are forgiven"flip of the wrist and continued talking of his days when he was only a prince. Most of his childhood was spent being tutored by the best teachers in the best environments possible. From what Elora squeezed out of him he was not very close to his parents. Louis barely remembered his father. His mother had an extremely important agenda and did not have time to waste with her son. She was never the sort of company a mother should be to her adolescent son. The idea of motherly affection was only a fairytale to Louis. Elora was sure, in his mother's busy schedule, she could have found time to love her son.

It was then that she deduced that the king's lack of being loved as a child determined why he was the way he was at present. Never happy with any woman he had, even though he was using her to sate his every whim and desire. He used people like puppets to do his bidding; never loving and never really having anyone truly love him.

"Elora, tell me something.–Tell me something that you have never told anyone."

She took a moment to recall and warned him this story was not a reflection of her present character. She had been ten years old and her brother Damien was practically four. Wesley was still so little, barely two. The whole family was shopping in an antique store. Dad had Wesley in one of those baby packs hanging on his back. It was her job to keep hold of Damien and make sure he did not touch anything.

Somehow Damien and she got split up from their mom and dad. The store was huge, at least huge to an eight year old. In the process of looking for their parents her eye was caught on a lovely glass carousel. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was purple with gold horses. It had an opalescent layer on it, so when the sun touched it glimmered and shined. She had to pick it up and look at it; being overpowered by its beauty. When she picked it up it slipped right out of her hand and hit the floor shattering in pieces.

"You should not feel badly about that, it was an accident," Louis comforted her.

"That's not what I feel bad about. You see when I dropped it my parents found us immediately. They asked me what happened and I told them that _Damien_ picked it up and dropped it. I have felt awful about it ever since, but have never told the truth to my parents. Damien doesn't even remember." She got out of her straddled position behind Louis and reached for the hand mirror. She could not help but laugh at his soon-to-be reaction. "Okay you're done!"

When Louis saw his hair in at least two-dozen small braids with pink ribbons tied at the ends he almost fell out of bed. "Elora!" he yelled, but an instant later began to laugh as loudly as she.

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Louis and she chose to play a game of chess one rainy afternoon when he was feeling a little better. At least now his mind was not so achy he could not think straight. Even the rest of his body was stronger.

With the snap of his finger a gold and silver chessboard was brought in, already set up to play. It was placed between them in the bed. The chessmen were so detailed, fancier than any she had ever seen. Instead of concentrating on the game, she reminded him of each piece's detailed beauty every time she won one from him, fondling it for a moment before getting on with the game.

He was glad she knew how to play the game. When he first asked her he feared chess was no longer known in her future world. When she played, even through her distracting behavior she was actually quite good; surely more of a challenge than he was used to.

"Elora, do you know why I enjoy playing this game with you so much?"

"Because you nearly always win."

"Nay. It is because I do not always win," countered Louis.

"Why? Does everyone else you play against let you win?"

"Yes. I fear they are all too intimidated by me. They are afraid to anger me and assume it would benefit them better if they purposely lost."

"Well I don't care about benefits. You don't need to worry about me trying to get something out of you."

"I know," he said casually, not even looking up to answer her. He could always count on Elora Roux's honesty in everything. She did not have one greedy or vain bone in her perfectly proportioned body.

She took out many of his pawns, which was usually the first few plays she did. He had won their game yesterday. Today however he was able to capture her knight, but then before he knew it she had his knight and his bishop. He took out both of her castles in anger, as he could see she was clearly winning.

"Hmm," Elora paused. "But with capturing my last castle with your queen I can now capture her.–You are finished without your queen, Your Majesty!"

He slammed his fist against the headboard and cursed her. He really hated it when she did that. His words to her were not of a kind manner. His competitive nature turned him into a snarling, frustrated bastard, but he still enjoyed the game.

They played for an additional half hour until the game had a winner. "Louis…checkmate! I've captured the king!" Elora exclaimed in pure delight.

King Louis smiled at her for a moment. "Indeed you have, Elora. Indeed you have." His words had a double meaning, which Elora did not realize. His admiration for her grew every time she beat him at something or came up with a good idea. When he was well again he would have to do something very special for her.

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After two weeks and three days, His Majesty, King Louis was fully recuperated. Thérèse could not be more pleased to hear from the servants that Elora had returned to her own chamber to sleep. She sent a letter hoping she could meet in the afternoon and join her brother, Cesaire, and she to pick some of the few oranges in the King's Orangerie that had already ripened. They had come early this year because of the extraordinarily warm spring. She received a reply as quickly as she had sent it. Elora would certainly come and expressed her excitement in very unique punctuation, which Thérèse had never before seen used so often in a note.

Christophe had not been in good spirits for weeks now. It had coincided with Elora beginning to cohabitate with the king. She knew his heart had stirred for her, but if Elora was secretly involved with the king then she knew her brother would never take her as his wife. She had sworn with such a devout voice that she was not in any way involved in a liaison with King Louis, so she had to believe her, though it was very difficult not to think the worst. Whatever the truth was Christophe had been wounded by Elora's actions. She hoped this meeting today would bring them back together. It would be nice to have her as a sister and settled at Chartres Chateau.

Elora met them all by the Water Parterre, dressed in blue and wearing a large hat to keep the sun from her face. She already had a good size basket in hand. "Okay guys, let's go pick some oranges! Gee, it's great to get outside again. King Louis' room was stifling and my room, being in the attic, is a sauna."

Thérèse could see her brother's face turn from smile to frown the moment she mentioned the king's name. She was grateful Elora did not seem to notice his jealousy. Decided on changing the subject, she asked Elora how she liked the bouquet of flowers she sent to her room.

Before Elora had a second to answer, Christophe cut in, "Elora, you should really be congratulated. You have saved our cousin, the king's life. We have all missed your company, but now seeing such a positive result how could we be anything but glad you defied all the overeducated physicians."

"I'm so glad you see it that way, Chris."

Thérèse was glad too, but was not sure how sincere Christophe's words were. She was sure he was happy the king had survived such a crippling illness, as well as being sure he could not have been any more upset at Elora sleeping in the same chamber as the king.

"Yes Elora," continued Thérèse. "The entire court now knows that you alone prevented King Louis' death and nursed him back to health. Looking at him yesterday I would never have thought he may have been dying only weeks ago. How did you treat him? Was it some heathen medicine you learned from the Indians?"

Elora laughed lightly. "No, I don't know any Indians. For many years I assisted the doctor in my town and I learnt a lot from her."

"Her?" asked all three of them at once.

"Excuse me, the doctor is a _him_. You know how I sometimes mess up similar words in translation.–I treated the illness the king had many times. My brothers used to get sick with it every year, so now I'm a pro."

"So they were sickly children?" Thérèse asked in a concerned manner, do her best not to pry. Elora was very sensitive about the subject of her family.

"Not so much, all kids get sick. They're always touching railings or door knobs and then sticking their fingers in their eyes and mouth. They pick up everything that way."

"Well, God rest their souls." She added softly. She looked for Elora reaction, and there it was again. She looked down at the ground for not even two seconds, took a deeper breath, and look back up, refocusing on the conversation. Perhaps she was saying a silent prayer in her heart. Thérèse wished more than anything Elora's pain would lessen and she would any day speak to her, telling her the details of her past.

"So you look upon His Majesty as a brother of yours?" asked Cesaire. She knew he only asked for her Christophe's sake.

"In a way, I suppose," was all she would say.

They began picking the oranges on the lower branches. She enjoyed watching the men daring, striving to reach that fruit just out of arms length. Cesaire kept brushing up against her and looking down upon her with those sweet eyes. His eyes always spoke volumes to her. Today his eyes said, _I love you_. Now she just needed him to say those words aloud to her.

She and Cesaire purposely walked a bit from the sight of her brother in order to steal a moment by themselves for affections sake. Minutes later, whether intentionally done so or not, Christophe appeared through the trees. Though he was not concerning himself with them rather following Elora and holding her basket as she went around picking the oranges.

Cesaire let her out his arms quickly and they quickly made a show as if they had been busy with oranges the entire time. Elora stopped and leaned up against the trunk of the tree. "Are you unwell?"

"A sudden upset stomach. I think I'll go back to my room now. I'll see you all tonight." Elora hurried back to her room, not allowing Christophe the chance to insist on accompanying her to her chamber. She had even left her basket of nice, ripe oranges.

"I hope she is not becoming ill with the king's sickness," Christophe fretted.

If she did not see her at the dinner festivities tonight, she would speak to the king on the matter. Though it would be likely he would already notice Elora not in attendance.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

When Louis was well enough to meet Elora Roux's satisfaction, she gave her approval for him to continue his daily duties, which he was fully prepared to agree upon. He had his colour and his flare back. He believed he thinned out slightly, giving his feature a more distinguished look.

He was very grateful to Elora for her devotion towards him while he was ill. Now holding her in very high regard, more so than he had ever expected of anyone. He had never spent so much time with a woman and never once been bored. He found himself asking her to be at his side for all occasions, not with the intention of a having a love affair, but simply to be in her company.

He had known for several days now that Elora was not feeling well. She tried to hide it, perhaps even ignore it. He knew for a fact she had been experiencing periodic vomiting spells over the past several days. This morning she had told him she was not feeling well enough to join him for lunch, but he still insisted. He wanted her there more than he cared to accept her ill state.

She came, though looking back at it now he realized how terrible she must have been feeling and how thoughtful her intentions to still agree to come. When they had just begun their first course she had to run from the room with a bowl under her chin. It was extremely embarrassing not only for her, but for him as well. She was resolute it must have been something she had eaten or a _stomach bug _and insisted he not call for a physician.

He did not heed to her request though and sent for Doctor Dubuque anyway. He had sent a formal written request to him not two hours ago to go assess her condition. The physician now asked for an audience with him as soon as he could spare a few minutes. This meeting must be to tell him something quite serious if he was to interrupt him in person in the middle of a meeting with his council.

Into his council room he admitted Doctor Dubuque; an older man of at least fifty. He had brown hair and a full beard, sprinkled with gray. His wire-framed glasses gave him an intelligent, serious appearance, which utterly corresponded with his personality.

"Your Majesty," said the physician as he bowed. "Thank you for seeing me so quickly."

The king wrung his hands for a few seconds, unable to hide his worry. "What is wrong with her? Is there a remedy? When it concerns my ward's health I am extremely attentive."

He explained all that has just occurred in his assessment with Elora Roux. When he visited her in her chambers she only wanted a potion to settle her sick stomach, but he insisted on performing an extensive assessment at the king's command. He decided quickly she was not ill in the same manner as the king had been. After examining her and asking her several defining questions he determined with certainty what the problem was.

Doctor Dubuque shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "There is no remedy for the lady…for she is not ill.–Well, to get straight to the point, I suspect there may be the first royal bastard, you sired, born this winter."

"What? From who? Are we still talking of Elora Roux?" Louis thought he must have missed something from the conversation.

"Of course we are talking of the Comtesse de Valréas. It is the Lady Elora who is with child."

He fell back into his chair. "It can't be!"

"Curious, this is exactly what the Comtesse said before she became hysterical. Her servant could not get control of her either. You may get the second opinion of a midwife, but she will give you the same report as I."

Elora with child! She had always appeared chaste to him. He could usually spot virgins a mile away. Since it was not his child, he wondered whose it was.

She insisted even after the physician told her the news she had never been with a man before. The he said he found it strange that when he was questioning her, her responses seemed honest and innocent. She shook her head vigorously, to the extent where her entire body began to shake. She appeared deeply concentrated in thought and then she shrieked in blind panic, he supposed remembering the deed. She ran from the room before he could give her something to calm her nerves.

"She seems like a healthy girl. You will have a strong child from her, Your Majesty."

The doctor believed he was the father; he had never heard such a ridiculous statement! Elora was not even his mistress, yet he had been spending a great deal of time with her of late. Louis stood, not knowing how else to protest. He would have to clarify this misconception.

"Did the Comtesse tell you I sired this child?"

"Well," he shifted uncomfortably. "I only assumed."

"I see." He thanked the good physician for coming to him with the unexpected information so attentively, reminded him about his duty to be discreet, and quickly excused him from the room.

Louis went out his private balcony and walked through the gardens in contemplation, ignoring all the courtiers he passed. Soon Elora would be so concerned with caring for her child she would have no time for him or anyone. She would never be the same Elora. If she truly was his ward and they were not putting on a farce he could simply marry her off quickly. Since he was not in control of her, he was not sure what he could do. He did not believe Elora could understand what her life here would be like with an illegitimate child. He would have to find out who was the father and force him to marry her.

How could Elora be silly enough to get herself with child? He never saw her dallying with any of the courtiers. He would have heard if she was involved with someone. Who could he be? It had to be his cousin, the Duc de Chartres. Christophe Morlaix had mentioned to him some weeks ago on the hunt about his intentions toward Elora. He fancied himself in love. Louis was quite certain his cousin wished he would have been the one to come down with sickness instead of him. Then Elora would have been tending so diligently to him all that time.

He possibly would not marry her with an illegitimate child on the way; that perhaps was not even his. Louis could not just foist a wife onto a man who already has another man's seed growing within her. Well he could, but again, would Elora go along with it? The Duc de Chartres was from a very powerful family, whether he wanted to marry Elora or not, it would be his patriarchal mother, the Douairiere Duchesse's decision to allow such a match. She was not a woman to be pressured into anything, even by the king. She had power in places he did not even have. He knew he could, by rule, force Chartres, but he did not want to have bad blood between the family if he could avoid it. He would have to endow Elora with something of value to the family as a gesture of good will. But what if Elora was the one to refuse to marry him? No, she would not be so imprudent…on second thought…

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Elora had assumed she either she had food poisoning or a stomach virus. Doctor Jean Dubuque was one of many of the king's doctors who she had had almost come to blows with while the king was sick. He, like all the rest, disliked her because he believed she had no right to act as a doctor. As far as he was concerned she had no medical training and she was a female. Yet he was the only doctor who had come to her when the king was better and somewhat complimented the skillful care she had given to the king.

His assessment was the epitome of extensive, especially considering how low-tech these doctors had it. He asked about her period and until then she had not noticed how late she was. She found it odd it had slipped her mind for so long. She was sometimes late, but she never missed one.

His concern was marked on his wrinkled face. He sat down with her; she could tell he was preparing to lower the boom. Then he told her he believed she was with child. She was sure nothing could be as great a shock in her entire life like what she had just found out. She of course knew this to be impossible.

"Doctor, this can't be. I'm not having sex. I've never had sex." It had to be anything but pregnancy, maybe the time travel had thrown her off schedule. Yes, that had to be it, but it was not like she could explain that to him.

Yet he still insisted his assessment led him to believe she was pregnant. "You must think about this. Have you been remotely intimate with any man?"

"No. I've only ever had one boyfriend. I'm not a casual dater who has one-night stands. I've never gotten so drunk where I could have slipped up either."

"All signs point to pregnancy. Your body has already begun to make accommodations for the child. I tell you as a physician, you are with child."

"Listen, you've got to believe me. I've never had…"

The word _pregnant_ continued to flash in her mind! Then something happened to her that could only be described as a flash flood in her head. Suddenly the images of her last night at home came rushing back to her memory. How could she have forgotten the absolute terror she felt that night.

_Rob grabbed me by the waist as I walked away from him. It was a rough and angry grasp, with such a fierce force he was able to push me down onto the bed. My head slammed into the headboard making me dizzy for a few seconds. Before I could rise he was immediately on top of me. I shrieked, "No!" over and over, but he continued on with his evil deed like he never heard me. No one could hear me; there was no one else in the house and the neighbors were too far away. Intense fear pulsed through my body as my heart pounded. I felt everything falling into the pit of my stomach. I had never felt so powerless in my life. I knew he was angry enough that he could kill me. _

_The sound of Hendrix issued from the radio, with the guitar screeching and making inhuman sounds. From me punching and kicking and screaming he fumbled as he lifted my skirt. When I tried to get up he forced his weight on me pushing me back down, with one of his hands tightly pressing on my waist, the other clutching my wrists, holding them down against the pillows above my head. The tears poured out of my eyes until my hair was soaked and stuck to the side of my face. _

"_Rob, please stop! Don't do this!" _

"_I've waited too long, I deserve this." Then he thrust into me, hard and hungry with lust. The pain ripped through me and I was unable to fight back. I could barely take in a small breath. There was a searing pain, as if he had just thrust a knife into me and was now rotating the blade with it still within me. _

_I turned my head and saw the lamp on the nightstand. I prayed it was within reach. I wriggled one of my arms out from his grasp, stretched out, and finally clenched it within my palm. In an instant I smashed it over Rob's head with all my strength. I knocked him out completely. After pushing his body off me I rolled off the side of the bed and crawled out of the room, gasping and whimpering. _

"Oh my God! I am pregnant."

How could she have been so oblivious and ignored all of the signs. Her boobs had been sore for weeks. No period. Eating all those pickled beets for like a week straight. She was even having morning sickness!

Doctor Dubuque took a potion bottle from his bag and gave it to her to put her to sleep or something. She pushed his hand away and ran out of the room. She could not think about where to go. She just had to run; she had to keep moving. She pushed through the doors on the main floor and ran into the gardens.

It was late afternoon, so the majority of the courtiers had already made their way indoors to prepare and dress themselves for the evening's festivities. As she sped by she did not even turn her head to look at those she did pass.

She had not noticed she was barefoot until she ran down the last of the steps by the Fountain of Latona, for the ground was heavy laid with jagged gravel. She could have gone around to avoid it, but she did not want to. The rocks pierced through her skin, but she could not slow herself down. It almost felt good that her feet were wounded and bleeding. Maybe in those five seconds before reaching the soft, matted grass of the Green Carpet some of the pain left her heart.

Bearing left as she came upon the Grand Canal she made her way to the Menagerie; hoping the sound of nature would consume her. The sun was beginning to set, it had been a bright, cloudless day, but now foreboding skies were crawling in. Her heart was pounding as the wind blew hard against her body. The scent of the orange blossoms filled her senses. The wind must have been coming at her from the direction of the chateau. Between the blue-gray skies, which reminded her of Rob's eyes, and that forceful wind it felt as if something were chasing her.

The path began to wind and become less groomed. She caught her foot on a root and fell to the ground. She scraped not only the palms of her hands in the dirt, but also her dress tore in at least two places, at the bodice and at the hem of the skirt. None of that mattered at that moment. She rose to her knees and screamed as loud as she could, "Nooooooo!"

Oh God, that night had really happened, her thoughts screamed! Rob _raped_ her! It was the beginning of spring break and she was heading home, but made a stop at Rob's house to watch a movie. He had insisted, since they had not seen each other in over a week. She had forgotten his parents were out of town.

They watched the movie in his room, like they always did. But tonight she had something to tell him. After the movie ended he started making out with her. She pulled away from him and told him that she wanted to breakup; she had been wanting to for a long time. She had expected him to be upset, but never imagined he would react as he did. He had never been violent or even the slightest bit aggressive with her before. They had their share of arguments over the years, but he had never raised a finger to her.

She was pregnant too! How could God let this happen to her? She was not ready to be a mother. She was not ready to have a baby; especially Robert Fitzwilliam's baby. She always planned to wait to marry until after medical school, then have kids. The father of her children would be responsible, nurturing, and compassionate. Rob was none of the above and would not likely change when he heard he was to be a father.

She had imagined her husband-to-be many times; the different ways he might look, the sound of his voice, how he would propose and how she would answer. They would live in beautiful house and never have to worry about anything.

Now she was pregnant that was never going to happen. She was going to be a single-mother. Finishing college, not to mention getting into medical school, was out of the question. No guy was going to even look at her; not here, not even back in her time. She would be living at home forever and be on welfare. Perhaps she could aspire to a job in the food service industry if she were lucky.

No longer wishing to see wildlife caged up in the Menagerie she turned back. She fled to the only sanctuary she knew, to the only one who could help her feel better. Into the palace chapel she ran, falling to her bruised knees at the altar.

_Jesus, please help my burdened heart. How could something like this happen to me? I have always been a good daughter to you, yet you allowed Rob to rape me and now an even more horrible thing is to come from an already horrible thing. A baby! How could you? After what I have been through, why this, why now? Is this some kind of trial I must pass? Could some good come from news so horrible? Is this why I am here? What reason could you have for bringing me here to the stone age to have a baby? Lord, tons of women die in childbirth here. I don't want to die._

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King Louis woke to a knock at his door. It was his footman to tell him the Comtesse de Valréas' maid was begging to see him.

Once the girl gained admittance to see him, she told him that the Comtesse had fallen asleep in the palace chapel, when the bishop woke her she broke into a hysterical fit and still at that moment refused to leave the chapel. She did not know what to do, she hoped the king could help.

He hurriedly put on his robe and made his way to the chapel. Louis never thought for one moment what Elora must have been feeling in this situation, he had only thought about what had to be done. What unmarried woman could be pleased when pregnant? He never thought about going to comfort her. It should have been his first reaction. Why could he not readily concern himself with other's feelings? His upbringing had sorely neglected that lesson.

He heard her wailing from down the hall. It was such a pitiful cry, like sad howl of a she-wolf. When he entered the chapel he saw a guard trying to pull Elora loose from the stone altar table. All he could hear was her alternating sobbing and screeching, which echoed through high walls of the stone chapel. She was screaming at the guard to let go of her, as if his mere touch was causing her pain.

"Release the Comtesse at once and be on your way!"

Louis observed as he walked down the aisle she looked like the very devil from so much crying. Her eyes were all red and swollen. She was pale, with dirt smudged on her cheeks. She had an altogether sallow look about her. Her white gown was filthy. Had she been rolling in a muddy field?

"Girl, go prepare a warm bath for your mistress. Father Michel, please leave us."

The oak doors closed leaving them alone in the silence of her whimpers.

"Elora, love," Louis sat her up. As he reached for her trembling hands he saw the scrapes and the dried blood. "You do not have to tell me anything. Only let me take you back to your room."

She did not answer him. Her stare was blank, as if she was not looking at him, but somewhere far off. Her jaw was dropped open and her dry, whitened lips made her look on the verge of death.

He maneuvered to rest her arm on his shoulder in the attempt to help her stand. She cried out in pain a moment later and they were back to sitting on the cold, stone floor. He questioned her, but she only lifted her skirts to show him her bloodied feet.

"Come on, love, give me your hand." Louis took her up in his arms and carried her back to her bedroom; where he placed her down on the bed. The servant girl kept coming in and out with buckets filling the bathing tub. He fetched a cloth and dampened it. He did not need to ask her permission, for he knew she would find no harm in his actions, as he began to clean Elora's hands with his tender touch. Bending down, he began to gently clean her feet. She touched his head with her hand in silent praise for his deed.

Where had she been stepping to get such wounds? Now she would not be able to dance with him for several days at least.

Next, he helped her out of her gown, until she was left only in a single chemise. Guiding her to the bath he assisted her into the tub. She closed her eyes and sighed. He turned to leave the room and heard her say in a coarse whisper, "Thank you." With a nod of the head, he left her bedchamber with a heavy heart.

Louis hoped this newfound madness was simply due to shock and would pass. Or he might lose what he always wanted but never really had. Damn God for letting his Elora become with child. He would not have cared if it had been any other woman or all the other women in the world as a matter of fact. Yet God chose to let this curse fall upon the one woman he cared about. Perhaps there was some purpose to this turn of events. This might be a trial for more than just Elora Roux.

Away from Elora's ears, he instructed her maid servant to find out who had done such terrible things to her heart and body. She was to report it to him immediately, if Elora shared such information. Whoever he was, he would indeed suffer.

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Suzanne brought breakfast into her mistress the next morning. She had never thought to see her mistress so distressed as she was last night. She had been in the room when the physician gave the wretched report to her.

She had made quite a scene in the chapel. She hated having to go fetch the king, but the king had told her the first day she was assigned the duty of being servant to Elora Roux, if anything out of the ordinary happened with the Comtesse to send for him immediately.

After assisting her out of the bath last evening, Her mistress insisted she stay with her the whole night; she was too afraid to be alone. She did not to have ask, she would have stayed anyway. Elora had only been asleep barely two hours when she woke screaming. Suzanne did her best to calm her, but she kept saying things in English that she did not know. When she asked what she was saying Elora just shook her head not saying anything more to her.

For a second time that night, Elora had terrible nightmares. This time she was still asleep when she began to cry out and say things, as if she were reliving something horrifying. Whatever was plaguing her mistress she did not envy her.

Suzanne could hardly believe she was with child. It was difficult to fathom because she put her mistress to bed every night and was the one to wake her every morning. Her mistress never expressed romantic interest in any man at court. Yet her woman's intuition was telling her there was more to this pregnancy than a night sharing her bed with a man.

"So Suzanne, what do you think of these new developments?" Elora asked her in such a blasé way she was not completely sure she was speaking of the pregnancy.

She felt tremendous pity, but was also slightly appalled. The father must be the king. Elora had been in his chambers alone with him for weeks. Yet how could she be with child so quickly? It must have been the first morning she was introduced to her mistress by the king. She had been sleeping in his bed and not wearing much of anything.

Yet Elora had reacted in such a distraught manner; first her screaming, then that terrible display in the chapel. Something else was certainly troubling her, though she could not imagine what could be worse than having an illegitimate child.

"I was surprised." She put it delicately.

"Me too. I never thought I would be the girl to get knocked up at nineteen." She patted the cushion beside her, urging Suzanne to sit. "What will happen to me here? Will a mob stone me to death?"

"Certainly not. I am not sure exactly, but I know the king will not like this." She sat down hesitantly, but still relaxed against the cushions. "The last unmarried woman who became pregnant at court was ordered by the king to live out the rest of her days in a convent. Her entire family was ruined. The king does not like these kinds of hiccups at his court."

"And what punishment befell the man involved?"

"I believe the king sent him away from court for a year or so, but His Majesty soon missed his presence and invited him back. The gentleman has since married and left court though."

"And the king did not pardon the lady?" Elora raised a brow.

"Oh no, she made a big fuss here claiming rape. That's the oldest story in the book. The king would hear none of it and sent her away."

"So there was a possibility of the lady's innocence and the _gentleman's_ entire guilt," Elora began to cry with bitterness. "Yet the king completely destroyed her life and her family's honor and just gave him a slap on the hand and pardoned him!–Suzanne, _I was raped_!" Elora put her hand to her mouth to stop a screeching cry. "I am the victim, yet I am the one being punished!–Louis will punish me the same way as that girl; I know it. He may be my friend now, but not when he hears about this. I'll be completely alone again! I'm a tainted woman here. I bet I'll get the scarlet letter. Do they do that here? Is anyone on my side, even you?" She ran to her bed in hysterics crying, dropping her head onto her pillow.

"Oh Elora, please forgive me! My tongue sometimes says ignorant things. I'm confident the king will not do that to you." She followed Elora to the bed and hugged her tightly, rocking her back and forth. "You are one of his favorite ladies."

"Who knows what he'll do to me. I'm a fallen woman!"

She stayed with her mistress for several hours while she cried and cried. She should have thought before she said those things. She could not believe she had been so stupid. She did not dare ask who the perpetrating man was, as the king had been interested in. She was still not even convinced the king was not the perspective father of the child. If he were things might not be so dire for her mistress.

Now above everything else Elora must be feeling, she had to add fear of banishment to her mistress' worries. What had she done? Elora Roux was the best mistress she ever served, now if she was to be sent from court she could not follow her. The world was too hateful a place.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

For the next few days Elora kept to her room and claimed illness as an excuse to get out of her social responsibilities. Though she did not get so far as to say what specifically was ailing her; just saying she was unwell with something that was possibly contagious was enough to get everyone to leave her alone. She gave explicit instructions to Suzanne she would have no visitors. She was not in the mood to make small talk with anyone. The only person she felt like sitting with was Suzanne. Dear Suzanne, who knew of her plight, was so sweet and nonjudgmental.

She did not know what to tell people. There would surely be questions flying around in the next few months when her belly started getting big. Not to mention, her dreams just about every night were of being raped by Rob; which of course made her so thrilled to go to sleep, she did her best to stay awake for as long as she could. When she did sleep she woke screaming and sweating and tangled in her sheets. She actually fell out of bed last night.

Even in her waking hours she was anxious, with the constant feeling that Rob was somehow going to appear there and hurt her again. This fear was irrational, she knew, but she could not control herself. She would have brief recollections, almost like flashbacks of certain things about that terrible night.

She was sitting by the fire reading, expecting Suzanne to come back from the laundress any minute. She had just turned the page when she heard Suzanne outside the door yelling at someone. "I said, you shall not enter! Please leave now. My mistress is ill and will not be disturbed."

"I intend to enter with or without your consent!" the Duc de Chartres thundered.

"You will have to pass by me first and if there is even a slight bruise on me my mistress will have you flayed alive, make no mistake!" She heard Suzanne drop the pile of linen to likely bar the door with her body. Elora almost laughed, Suzanne really rocked as a servant.

Chris chuckled, as if her words were not to be taken seriously. He pushed the door open and had picked Suzanne up, bringing her in the room with him. After putting her down he deliberately stalked to the curtained bed. As soon as he found the bed was empty he whipped around.

Elora stood with her head held high and her hands on her hips. Her expression was of pure anger to let him know she was not happy with him at that moment. His eyes widened slightly at her appearance. She had forgotten to fasten her ivory silk robe, which revealed her wearing only shorts and a tank top, not quite the seventeenth century outfit. He did not fail to look down and notice she was barefoot too.

"My apologies!" he mumbled as he quickly turned his back to her.

She wrapped her robe back around her body and turned him back around to face her. "What are you doing here? How dare you invade my privacy," she yelled at him, then turned and gently touched Suzanne's arm and whispered, "Leave us for a few minutes." When she turned back to Chris the scowl had returned to her face. "Don't you know I'm sick, Chris. What could possibly be so important that you storm in here like this?"

"Well, I…" Chris Morlaix fumbled.

"Is the chateau under attack?" she asked in a sarcastic tone, which appeared serious, but was actually underlined with a threat.

"Nay."

"Is the king on his deathbed?"

"Nay."

"Is there a massive fire you came to save me from?"

"Nay."

"Then there's absolutely no reason for you to be here.–Just leave!" Steadfast, she pointed her arm towards the door.

He explained he came to ascertain her well-being, since she had not answered any notes either from his sister or him. They had not seen her for three days. He was concerned for her. He could see though that she was perfectly well. Now he questioned why she had claimed illness the past three days, worrying him to death.

After he told her all of this with animated emotion, her temper calmed. She admitted she was not really ill per se. She was simply not feeling well. She could not tell him about her supposed pregnancy right now. She was still trying to deal with it herself. Once again she sat down once by the fireplace. She picked up her opened book she had been reading and placed a bookmark between the pages. Sighing softly, she closed the book and put it on the table.

Chris sat beside her. "What happened to your hands?" He exclaimed in great surprise, suddenly taking notice of it.

She made no attempt to hide the fact of her injury nor go into greater detail than was necessary. "The same thing that happened to my feet.–The ground happened. It's nothing…I fell. I was outside running."

"What were you running from?"

She took her time answering his question. "A memory."

"It must be a dreadful memory to have made you so upset.–I am glad you are all right." He leaned in toward her slightly. "Elora, I came here with something specific in mind to speak with you about, but now I see it may be an inopportune time."

After a short encouraging sentence from her, he arose from the chair. "Elora, if it is not too presumptuous of me; if you care about our friendship at all, please tell me truthfully what your relationship is with His Majesty, the king?"

"Why should my relationship with King Louis have any bearing on our friendship?"

"It does not; it would not. I just cannot bear such secrets."

"Is that why you have been so short with me these past weeks? Because of the rumors of my liaison with the king?–Well I will tell you then, if you can no longer bear it. Louis and I are only friends. We get along very well and always find things to talk about. We've never had sex; we've never even kissed. Well there was that first day I came here he tried, but he got a punch in the face instead. Maybe since he's been afraid to try again. I know my behavior had been bad for my reputation. I know what it looked like with me staying in Louis' room. Please don't believe the rumors."

"So there are no secrets between us?"

"I did not say that. I have not bared my soul to you, Chris. There are still many things about my past I have not shared, but those are things to tell gradually on closer acquaintance. I can assure your there is nothing scandalous or of evil tendency in my past, but it is personal.–Do you think we can still be friends? I don't want to lose you or Thérèse."

"Elora, there is nothing about you that I can dislike. I agree there is always time to learn news things from one another. Now that's settled…" He knelt by where she was sitting. She straightened up and her brow rose slightly. She wondered what was he up to. "I have been trying to tell you this for many weeks, but was never able to get the words out." Chris took Elora's hands in his own. "I am in love with you."

Her eyes widened with surprise; that was the last thing she had expected him to say. He loved her? He had never even flirted with her or kissed her before. She would have thought that before falling in love he would have shown some sign of sentiment and romantic affection. Or had he given her all the signs and she just missed them?

Thinking back on it she did catch him looking at her funny quite a bit and he did take every opportunity to kiss her hand and he was always throwing out compliments, but she had assumed it was all in the mode of friendship. Then when she had visited with him after Louis got better he had acted somewhat jealous about her situation with the king. She had originally taken his reaction as dislike, but saw now it was none other than green jealousy. Maybe she had looked on him for too long as just a friend.

He loved her? Maybe she had heard him wrong. "You what?" she finally gasped.

He repeated his declaration of love for her once again, kissing both of her hands and looking up with his soulful, green eyes.

"Chris, you have only known me a few months," she whispered so softly that he had to lean in to hear her. "How could you love me so quickly?"

"I have loved you since the moment I first saw you, Elora Roux. When you pushed in your own chair at dinner the entire hall went quiet. I saw your face at that instant; it was of honest innocence. You differ from any woman I have ever met. You are a rare jewel, perfect in every facet, with no imperfections. After we became acquainted not only your striking beauty appealed to me, but also your keen mind and soft heart.–I believe all of these qualities to be worthy of the future Duchesse of Chartres."

Her body shifted towards him, her eyes widening even more. "Chris, are you…"

"I am at my knees asking you, the Comtesse de Valréas, to marry me? I need you in my life evermore. I want you more than anything."

She could only stare at him for a few moments, hoping to see some hint in his face that this was a joke. To her disappointment he appeared totally serious. What reasons other than his feelings for her could prompt him to propose such a thing? This was all happening too quickly and it was all too coincidental. She had not seen Louis since the night of her mental breakdown. He must have known there was something up from her behavior; maybe he even guessed she was pregnant. Maybe he had prompted Chris to do this tonight. She looked into the small fire for a minute to collect her thoughts, then back into his eyes. She could not take many more surprises.

She kept her voice calm and level, "I need to ask you something and I really need you to tell me the truth." He agreed. "Did the king ask you to do this?"

His head shook, questioning her strange response. "Of course not. It is none of his concern. Though I will have to ask his permission eventually, for he is your guardian. I intended to speak with my family when I return home to prepare for the ball, before bringing it to the king. If it is your wish I will seek his consent first before you make an answer. I will do so this very evening if possible."

She nodded her head, believing him. "Thank you for your honesty." She took his hands. "Chris, you're making me a _very_ flattering offer and I am grateful for it. Speaking the words, "I love you" can sometimes be a difficult thing to say and making a marriage proposal is even more of a challenge to some. I am delighted to have someone who cares for me so deeply, but I cannot marry you. I don't love you in _that_ way. Besides, I know you will not know what I mean because you didn't take _Psych 101_ like me, but I am just now recovering from _psychogenic amnesia_ and I am currently suffering from _post-traumatic stress_. My mental stability is not so good at present. I am really the last person you want to be romantically entangled with."

Chris' expression was like looking at a deer looking into headlights. Had she hurt him? Crushed his spirits? Was he confused? Did she even answer him in French? He was saying nothing and she was equally out of things to say. How can one continue a visit after turning down a proposal? She could not leave the room in reverence, because it was her room. It was Chris who would have to go, but he was not. He stood there not moving; she was not sure if he was even breathing. She did not want to kick him out and let things end on that note. If he would only say something…

"I have offered you a great title and marriage to a man that loves you and you…you refuse me?"

Even though he was turned away from her, she heard him sniffle. She put her hand to his cheek to turn his face her way. She had not noticed until this moment how tall and handsome he really was. She never imagined ever having to say no to a marriage proposal, but then she did not expect to be asked for another ten years. The pain her friend was feeling was her fault and she hated that. A tear fell from her eye. She apologized for causing him pain.

A burning log shifted in the fireplace; breaking the silence and shifting their gaze for a moment. "There's someone else you are in love with!" he accused.

She would not be pressured into this. There was too much she had to deal with right now. She did not need this on top of it. She was not ready to be married. She wanted to tell him she never knew he loved her, but it would just further this fruitless conversation. Maybe they could have dated and tried to make it work, if she had not regained her memory and the trauma along with it; not to mention the fact that she was very pregnant. She did not need to add more kindling to that blazing fire.

Instead she stood, saying, "There's no one else, Chris. I simply don't want to get married. I am in a position right now where I cannot even imagine being in a relationship of any kind. My heart is broken and my spirit is mortally wounded. I'm not even up to keeping good company with friends, as you see. I am definitely not ready for marriage."

"How can you not be ready!" He hit the sofa, trying to relieve his frustration. "You are a lady of good standing with His Majesty. You are amiable and beautiful. You are learned. You have nineteen years to your person! You are practically past the decent age for marriage. What is the delay? It is not as if you could be waiting for a more suitable match than me. I am willing to take you without a dowry, not many men at court are in that position. This may be the only proposal anyone will ever make you."

She straightened her posture; slightly angry at his stinging words and his daring to presume he was the judge of all men's goodness. She moved the sofa back from where he shoved it, though it had just been moved an inch or so. She kept her temper in check, realizing his cruel outburst was because he was suffering. She knew if he was going to get violent Suzanne was right outside the door, waiting to get help.

"Chris, there is one thing more I would require. I will need to be deeply in love before I can agree to marry anyone. You think after only two months of knowing me you know me. There is a great deal you do not know and I think if you did know you would not be so in love with me or so anxious to marry me.–You never expressed your feelings for me until now and then you say you want to marry me on top of it. For God's sake you never even tried to kiss me. I thought we had a nice friendship going here." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry, I just can't marry you."

Looking at her with such hatred, he made a great huffing sound and shook his head; before he bowed and stormed out the door. Elora winced as he slammed it closed, making nearly the whole room shake. She could not help feeling terrible about her answer, even though she knew in her heart it was the only answer she could have rightly given. She had hoped once she explained her reasons he would understand and realize how wrong he was. Her hopes were in vain; maybe she had been too honest with him.

That night she went to bed early, tired from her argument with Chris. She was there once again in that dream tonight. She was in Rob's room and he was there. He came at her, pinning her down to the bed. She screamed for help, for him to stop, pleading with him! The pain, as he forced himself on her, was too much.

Something shook her out of the dream; maybe a stirring in the room. She took a minute to catch her breath. She thought she was now awake. She was in her fire-lit room in the chateau. "It was just a dream!"

Then Rob came out of the shadows. It was him! He stood in his black t-shirt and baggy jeans, looking at her with a fierce glare. How could he be here? France was her refuge. Before she knew it he had grabbed her and she was screaming, struggling to get away from him. She elbowed him in the gut and kicked at his legs, anything to get away. He had tight hold of her wrists though and she began to feel unwell. This could not go on for much longer; Rob would eventually overpower her. He was going to throw her down on the bed and rape her again!

He was yelling at her; she could barely hear him through her own screams. "Elora, stop this! What is the matter? Calm yourself! It is I, Louis!"

Louis? No he was Rob! Yet his voice had a French accent and it sounded like Louis the more he spoke. She looked at his face again and it was Louis. She stopped struggling at that moment.

What had she done? She was crazy! She pressed her hand to her forehead and began to cry hysterically. "Oh, Louis! I'm so sorry. I must have scared you out of your wits."

"Where were you just now? Whom did you mistake me for?"

"I was just hallucinating. I thought you were my ex, Rob. Please forget this." She could not be more embarrassed at this moment. Now that Louis was here she wished she had gone to him sooner.

"I was hoping to see you this evening. You should not hide yourself away in here. Everyone is missing you, especially me. I bided my time before coming. I did not quite expect to find you asleep at this hour or I would not have come. I needed to see you; it has been too long."

"I've been hoping you would come," she cried as she hugged him.

He met her embrace with equal joy. "Elora, all will be well. I am here. I will take care of everything."

She buried her face in his soft shirt. "No. No. You don't know.–Nothing matters now."

He did not say anything immediately. She wondered what he could be thinking. She knew she would be telling him the truth tonight, but was afraid of his reaction.

"I know you are with child," he finally said.

In the darkness she looked at him, still able to see his eyes glossy with emotion as she. "How…how could you know that?"

"Nothing goes on at Versailles that I do not know about."

So much for patient confidentiality here in the seventeenth century. That damn doctor mush have skipped right over to tell Louis all about it. Her hand gripped at his shirt, terrified at what fate awaited her. She did not want to live like an outcast and among nuns no less. "Are you going to force me into a convent too?"

"Now who's been filling your head with that silly story?" he said lightly as he caressed her cheek, pressing her to sit at the edge of the bed with him. "You're not going anywhere that you do not want to go. Put your mind at ease, Elora."

"But that lady…"

"She was no lady. Ruthlessness, conniving, depraved…those were her qualities. You possess none of these. You are good and virtuous. You should be comforted, not chided."

She was partially relieved. At least she would not be sent away, yet she would still have to face the shame of having a baby. She leaned toward her nightstand and lit a candle.

Upon Louis asking her who the father of the child was, she began to cry once again. She turned away from him and covered her face. "Does it really matter now?"

Putting a gentle hand on her shoulder he turned her back towards him. "Of course it matters. You must tell him. It is possible he will marry you to save his name and honor. I will have a talk with him myself if you feel you cannot."

Stamping her foot, she said, "If one more person mentions marriage to me tonight so help me God I will not be responsible for what I do." She paused trying to calm herself down before she spoke again. "Louis, it was Rob who did this to me. Robert Fitzwilliam, you know, my boyfriend from back home. I didn't remember what he did until a few days ago." The terror of that woebegone night fell upon her like an arctic chill. "He raped me. He held me down on the bed and ripped my clothes and hurt me. No one was there to hear me screaming! I was alone and helpless. I can still feel his strong grip as he pinned me down at my wrists. He was squeezing so tight I lost feeling in my hands." She rubbed her wrists, as if she still felt his hands clenching them. Her tears kept falling and her sniffles stuttered her speech. "It was the most terrible thing, Louis. And I only just remembered it happened. My memory erased it for months; I never thought that possible. I never thought such an odd case of memory loss possible." She shook her head, trying to shake away the thought of Rob's brutal actions.

"I had suspected something to that effect the day you woke in my bed, but I suppose I disregarded it.–He should be hanged! If he were only one of my subjects I would–"

"You cannot punish him and neither can I. He is safe from our hands of justice for now. Once I get back there I may kill him." She knew God would punish him. "Louis, I'm hoping you can handle a little matter. You see, I'm thinking I want to give the baby up. Where would it go if I didn't want it?"

"It would become a ward of the church and cared for in a monastery. Or I could give the child a title and fabricate a history for it, then put it into care of some country noble. I would advise to you consider this carefully, Elora. Giving a child up is never easy for a woman."

He slowly moved his hand toward her belly and she allowed him to press his hand down, even though there was no bump there yet to feel. "This is the first problem that has ever arose in my life that I can not fix with either my powerful kingship or my endless supply of money."

She was about to say something along the lines of, "Some things are just out of our hands, even yours". Then she saw something in him that could only be described as a twinkle in his eye. His saddened face now formed a wide grin.

"Or maybe there is a something…" Louis took hold of her hands, keeping a steadfast gaze into her eyes. "Elora, before word of this reaches the public's ear, I wish to aid you. I will make you my mistress." She was about to put a stop to his speech at that, but he pressed on, refusing to let her interrupt him. "When your figure becomes obvious you are with child we will say that I am the father. I will take the responsibility since the true father cannot. You and the child will be safe this way."

Her astonished face conveyed the vast depth of her surprise. "You would do that for me?"

"Without a second thought." She embraced him for several seconds.

"That is probably the kindest thing I have ever heard of. You are an extraordinary man.–Wait, you're not trying to get me to marry you, are you?" she asked with a smile.

"I assure you nothing of the sort even entered my mind. This would only need to look like a brief romantic tie to make the story plausible."

"But Louis, I cannot let you do this. It is not your responsibility. You are not the father. I would not have people think badly of you, as they will of me. I would not ask such a favor of any man, no matter a king. It's my responsibility to bear alone. I could not ask you to make such a sacrifice."

"You did not ask me, Elora. And it is not so much a sacrifice, rather a fervent desire. I said I will do this and my word is honorable.–You must see giving up a child, even one conceived in such heinous manner, is still very heartrending. Think of the child now, not that man. Envision myself as the father. A child born to the king is not so dreadful. And the mother to a bastard prince or princess is not looked down on. It is no trouble for me. I could actually use one."

"This would be an awfully big lie. Even bigger that the one you made up to get me accepted here. I am not sure you are really prepared for the commitment involved. A child could put a damper on your future, especially when you want to settle down and start a family of your own. I really appreciate the lengths you are willing to take to help me, but I can't accept, even though I wish I could."

She had to turn him down. She could not let him go through with it. She and her baby were not his responsibility. Once the lie was told it could never be taken back. When he fell in love and married and had children of his own he would be full of regrets.

Yet her child would still be a prince or princess. That was a pretty big deal. There was no way she could ever, in this world or her own, ever provide for her child in such a way that Louis could. Now she hoped Louis would not take no for her final answer.

"Understand, your life is no longer simply your own. It is also partly the child you carry within you. What kind of life do you want that child to live? If I acknowledge this child as mine, he will live a good life. He will not exactly be considered legitimate, but people will accept him for his blue blood for certain."

She knew she could not refuse such a kindness from him. If she was destined to stay there forever, this was the only way for her to survive. She embraced him once again, as well as kissing him tenderly on the cheek. His cheek was surprisingly soft and smooth, assuming he had not shaved since morning.

"Thank you for doing this for us. You are the kindest person I have ever known. Do what you must to ensure the safety of my baby.–Hold me tighter, Louis. I'm so scared."

"There is no need to fear any longer, Elora. I will make it quite clear to the court that I am the father. Your life will be an unending comfort forthwith."

"I suppose for a while we will have to look like we're dating and obviously sleeping together."

"What else would anyone think we are doing when you become my mistress?"

She had not really thought about that. She did not want to be anyone's mistress, but this was the only way. King Louis did not have girlfriends; he could only have mistresses and she was to be his next.

She looked down for a moment and took a deep breath. "Then I suppose…you should stay here with me tonight."

"If you wish it."

He lied down beside her in the bed, but she promptly scooted an arm's length away from his person and put a pillow between them, just in case he were to get any ideas.

"Louis, how long do you think we will have pretend at this affair for people to get the idea that we've be intimate?"

"I don't know. A few weeks at the very least."

"You are so sweet to stay with me. You know when I first met you I was almost afraid to be near you because I felt you would try to take advantage of me. I can't believe how wrong I was about you.–You are the most platonic of any of my friends here."

She turned to face him, but they were still far apart in the great bed.

"You're my only family now.–You're like a protective older brother. I've always been the older sister, so this is a nice change.–You know, I have been having terrible nightmares about Rob. I've barely slept since I heard the news. I feel so screwed up. The trauma of being raped feels like it's tearing me apart from the inside. I think you being here is helpful. Something about your presence makes me feel so safe and peaceful."

"I am very happy to be here with you tonight, but please try not to kick or punch me anymore."

Elora laughed, "I promise."

She bid him good night and turned her head away from him. She knew she would sleep soundly tonight, now that Louis was there for her.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

When Elora woke Louis had already gone, but there was still an imprint of his head on the pillow. If Louis had been the Duc de Chartres instead of Chris and he proposed she might have accepted. It was useless thinking about it though; she was involved with Louis as much as she ever wanted to be.

After bathing and dressing she stood in front of the mirror. She did not look any different. No one would know, not for now at least. She could not believe she was already nine weeks far long. She had accomplished nearly one-third of the pregnancy and she did not even know it until now. She had been wondering why she had been putting on a little weight. She had figured it was because of the elegant lifestyle she was now leading. From all the fancy, fattening foods and the lessening exercise she assumed were the cause.

Then she realized she had been drinking wine practically every day since she came here. She hoped she had not caused any harm to her baby. She would be more careful about things like that now.

She stroked her stomach with what felt like the first smile in days. She was going to have a baby; maybe a little girl. No a girl would not be prudent in this time. If she wanted her child to have every opportunity to do whatever he or she desired it would be necessary to have a boy. With a boy he would have choices that a girl would not be at liberty to have, just as she could not become a doctor here. A little boy would be cute with her hair and Louis' accent. She did not need a husband and she certainly did not need Rob. Louis was going to take care of them. What a good friend Louis had turned out to be.

Elora entered the chateau chapel to meet with Father Michel, hoping he was free to hear her confession. He agreed and they went into a confessional. She spoke of her pride, vanity, and her refusal to be obedient to the king. She also mentioned the horrible things she had said to Louis over the past month, including the time she hit him. She was always chiding him and putting him in his place, when he was really the truest friend she had at Versailles. The guilt she felt treating him so and thinking even worse of him at times was unbearable. Father Michel's consolation was now she realized her sins, not to err in that direction again either in actions or in her heart. She insisted to him nothing King Louis could possibly do or say would provoke such things again. She saw him in a very different light now.

Then she decided to tell him the great burden pressing on her soul. "Father, before I came here there was a young man. He courted me for three years, then one night I weakened. I went up to his room when he asked me. I did not even imagine what he had planned. I somewhat innocently went with him. But Father he deceived me. I trusted him too much, more than he deserved. He forced me to the bed and he raped me. I came here to France almost immediately, with no time to recover from the shock of being violated."

"My child, if all is as you say then you were not at fault. You are the victim of a sinful man. He is the one that shall suffer for taking your virginity before marriage."

"But Father, why did God let this happen? Why could he not intervene?"

"God did not let this happen. This was an evil from man, who was given free will. God always has a reason for everything that happens. There is a divine purpose in everything, even though sometimes it comes under the worst circumstances."

She did not mention her pregnancy or that she was now going to be considered the king's mistress or that Louis was going to claim her child as his. The priest would find out about it all soon enough. If he was smart he might even put two and two together and figure it out, though he would never be able to say anything.

"In the name of God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost you are forgiven your sins. As penance, instead of fasting because of your condition, you are to say the three decades of the rosary and also begin a nine-day novena to the Blessed Virgin Mother. And I will say a prayer for you every day to lessen the pain of your infliction."

She thanked him and kissed his ring when he extended out his hand toward her.

From that point on Elora resigned herself to be happy with her fate. She had so many new concerns that she never needed to think of before then. She would make sure she did not overly exert herself. She would begin to focus on following a healthy diet; swallowing down vegetables that she disliked, but knew she must eat. Alcohol was definitely out. This idea that she could give life was wonderful. The new life inside of her gave her a feeling that her existence was now meaningful. Her soul was now at peace with everything.

She walked through the halls to return to her room when Cesaire called out to her. He told her Chris and Thérèse had left court in a hurry very early this morning. He mentioned about Chris' angry spirit and how he would be missing Thérèse's company. He did not seem to mention why they left and he did not go on about Chris' bad mood, so she supposed Christ had told him about last night. She wondered what exactly had been said about her. She would not inquire even though Cesaire was trying to induce her to spill her side of it, without really asking. She was very sad Thérèse was gone, but knew it was best Chris left for a while to cool off.

"Elora, there is to be a ball!" yelled Suzanne as she burst into the room. "In one week's time it will transpire. The Douairiere Duchesse de Chartres is hosting a _bal costumé_, celebrating the birthday of King Louis, in her chateau in Chartres itself. I heard it is a grand chateau. The Chartres' are practically the richest family in all France."

"Wait a minute! Did you say Louis' birthday is coming up?"

"Indeed; less than two weeks away. His Majesty will be with us of twenty-five years now. This will be a revelry to be marked in history I think."

She wondered why he had not mentioned it. Since hHHe was incredibly self-involved she was surprised he had not planned a huge blowout for himself already. Perhaps in all the commotion he did not think of it.

"Yes, I remember Thérèse told me the family was planning a party for this month, but I did not know the particulars. I'm surprised Cesaire did not mention anything about it just now." She calmly sat on the sofa. "I had forgotten about it amongst all the chaos. Chris and Thérèse have left court and I am no longer on good terms with Chris. I do not think I will be receiving any invitation to the ball."

"What about his sister, Lady Thérèse?" Suzanne still could not hide her excitement. She opened the wardrobe and began picking through the gowns, searching for a good one for her to travel in. Elora gave in and began looking through the wardrobe with her.

"She is very loyal to her brother, foremost."

"Well, I am convinced you shall be going. The king would not allow you to be slighted in such a manner. You are his new mistress after all. You will be included in everything from this point on."

"I hope you are right. It would be nice to leave the gates of the chateau just once. I'm sure there is much more to France that Versailles. I heard Paris is nice."

"Now we must call the couturière and choose your costume. What do you have in mind?"

"Something simple, yet utterly ravishing will do."

They both laughed.

To Elora's surprise she received an invitation. Suzanne was right again. First came the invitation from Chartres then Louis sent her a personal invitation to join him as his escort. King Louis even requested she join him in his own personal carriage for the journey to Chartres.

She joined Louis that afternoon for his walk. Her position as his mistress was now made a public matter now. He summoned her to walk beside him in front of all there. It was made apparent to all the courtiers following them that they were more than mere acquaintances. They certainly too pleasure in each other's company; luckily that was enough to convince the courtiers of a deeper intimacy. Louis and she did not want for conversation nor need to feign interest in one another in this new charade of theirs. No moment was left in silence, for one of them always had something to say, be it serious or silly.

"Louis, you know all the stuff we discussed last night…is it okay with you if I start to call the baby _ours_?"

"Of course you may. I am his father after all and you are his mother, so he is most certainly ours."

"He? We may be having a girl you know."

"No indeed. I am confident it is a male."

"I hope you are right, but we will just have to wait and find out." Too bad she could not just go to the doctor's office to get an ultrasound, yet it would be too soon to determine the gender. "Just think Louis, we are going to be parents in a matter of months. God really does have a plan. Our child will be able to grow up here, in this beautiful place. What a exquisite life it will be."

He stopped walking. "Elora, might I presume to kiss you now."

"Why now?" She smiled.

"Because you are glowing with beauty and you are everything I could possibly want from this life."

He kissed her very sweetly on each cheek, before continuing on with their walk. She was so happy to have him. God really did have a plan in bringing her here. Louis was the best gift she was sure she would ever receive.

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Louis was enjoying having Elora Roux as his mistress. The courtiers took enjoyment in seeing them together, which in turn pleased him. She was not the sort of lady he usually took under his wing. She did not even realize where she was supposed to sit by him at dinner. He was finding it necessary to send his master of ceremonies to Elora's chamber nearly every day to explain to her the protocol of being in her position.

He had requested of her more than once for her to be given more suitable chambers, but she refused every time he brought the suggestion to the table. She insisted she was very comfortable in the room she was in. Now he regretted giving her such accommodations. She only had one chamber, with one small window. It was completely inappropriate for receiving guests and for entertaining the king. Though it was a tiny room she had made it her own. It was a very pleasant place to be, almost cozy.

He had decided the night he took her from the chapel and returned her to her bedchamber he would take care of both she and the child for as long as he lived. He did not quite imagine he wanted to be the father until he spoke to her again the other night in her room. Altogether despising the idea that man who did such a foul deed had gotten away with the crime and remembering the physician's presumption believing the child to be his gave him the idea. What if it was not truly his, but rather if everyone thought it was. The contemplation of that possibility intrigued him. If he claimed this child as his Elora would not be completely ruined. It would not be bad for his reputation to have a bastard offspring. If anything it would strengthen his image to have a royal bastard at court.

If he did not have it dispersed in the courtier's ears that Elora's child was also his, then she would have to be sent away and that was something he intended to allow happen. He was not willing to sacrifice her company for the sake of propriety. She was the closest to a true friend he ever had. She confided in him about very personal things, which made him feel comfortable enough to speak of his feelings and thoughts. Somehow it was not just seducing her that was important to him anymore. The way she smiled at him or how she held his hand when they were alone, he loved those things. It would do not harm to either of them if he claimed to be the father. He was quite decided about the situation. Since the father was unprocurable, he would be the father.

He was very worried she would not agree to go along with such a farce. She was of an honest nature and was already plagued with having to keep the secret of her past life and deceive so many. From her reaction and eventual acceptance of his patronage he knew he had made the proper decision.

He had been even more excited when she asked him to stay the night with her. He could hardly believe it was it that easy. He thought she now succumb to him, since she was greatly in his debt. About to wrap his arms around her and pull her up against him, she placed a pillow between their persons. "Damn!" he thought, this was not his night. Now he was upset he had given her a room with such a large bed. If it had been smaller perhaps she would be in his arms now, instead of his arms being around a feather pillow.

After she broke the disturbing news to him that she loved him as a brother he practically fell off the bed. That was certainly a way to destroy any desires he had for her that night. Now he could not win her. He had gone about seducing Elora all wrong. Why could he not just rip off her incredibly thin nightdress, crush his body on top of hers, and make love to her?

He had hoped to surprise her with the news of the Chartres Ball. She would now have an opportunity to see more of his dear country than Versailles. She mentioned more than once wanting to see the different provinces.

As they embarked into the carriage to depart for Chartres her floral scent consumed his senses like a zephyr. She had no idea how she affected him. Her casual conversation soon turned into uncomfortable silence. From the beginning, the two-day carriage ride was not what Elora had expected. She had brought books and playing cards to keep herself amused, but never felt up to picking up one.

The part of the journey Elora had not anticipated was that she would get so easily _motion sick_. "It's ten times worse than being car sick because of the curving, bumping, unpaved roads," said she. Shortly after beginning the journey she lost her breakfast in Louis' feathered hat, with great embarrassment to both parties. She had asked him to stop the carriage, but the driver could not stop the four white steeds as quickly as was necessary.

He quickly tossed what had been his newest hat out the window. He was so very grateful she did not vomit on him that he did not mind so much his hat being ruined. The remainder of the day Elora slept, resting her head down in his lap. She never even asked his permission. She just settled herself that way.

He had never felt so comfortable with a woman before as he did with Elora. He knew the Comtesse de Maine would never be so disrespectful as to lie on the king in his carriage. This was the difference that he liked so much in Elora. She was not so guarded by protocol. Yet he was the one who had instituted such strict etiquette within his court. He had always liked getting prodigious respect and attention from all. He was after all the king, the highest standing man in all of France. He deserved to be the main focus of his subject's lives.

Elora told him her anxiety in meeting the Duc de Chartres again. She said that Chartres had proposed. He wondered why consent to be his mistress if she were engaged to be married to another man? He was surprised he decided to wed her after so short an acquaintance. Louis had been sure Chartres would be fawning over her another month or two before making a proposal. He laughed, not able to believe why Chartres would leave her so quickly. Unless, it could have been meant to be a secret engagement between them.

Then she clarified to him, "I said no. I don't love him and he seemed to take it personally. The worst part of this muddle is he thinks he loves me."

She refused a marriage proposal from the Duc de Chartres! Elora was either very self-confident in her charms or insane. "I do not think that you could do much better than the Duc. That would have been a very advantageous match on your side. You cannot be so daft you cannot see it, Elora."

"Of course…I know how rich Chris Morlaix is. I would be a real scumbag if I married him for only that reason. There must be love between man and woman in order to marry."

"There does not have to be love," Louis argued. "In most marriages the gentleman and the lady are usually strangers. Love is not necessary in marriage."

"Well, I was taught the reason for marriage is become closer to God through love. I believe it is very necessary in order to have a happy and healthy marriage. A relationship needs to be founded on something sturdy before it becomes a lifelong connection. Certain personalities are better suited to others and some are not.–Besides, aren't you forgetting, I could not strap him down with a ready-made family. I'm sure his love would fade into oblivion as soon as I told him I'm pregnant. Real love might be able to withstand such a blow, but his wouldn't because he's not really in love."

"How exactly do you know he does not love you?"

"Because of the mean things he said when I refused his proposal. They were words of a proud and bitter man, not a man in love. The proposal was not out of love; it was out of want to possess me. I thought _I_ was the one unprepared for marriage, but now after talking to him I think he's even more so than me. To love is to sacrifice and I don't think he was ready to make the necessary sacrifices. I could not spend a lifetime with a man who is like that. Besides who knows when I'll be going home to the future."

"I think you give my cousin too little credit. He is a good, honorable man. I have no doubt of his affection for you. I have seen you with him. You appear well suited to one another. I have never heard you say an ill word about him nor have an argument. Perhaps your condition has clouded your judgment."

"You're correct, I have no right to judge Chris' worth or feelings. But I am competent enough, pregnant or not, to know my own feelings. He is a good friend and he is very cute, but I have felt nothing to attract me to him romantically. Besides there would still be the baby who would be born a few months too early even to fool Chris. That would be my first lie. My second lie would be my family lineage and title. I am barely getting by as a comtesse; I can't imagine pretending to be a duchesse. Even if I told him the truth about everything and he was okay with it, there is still the question of how long I will be here for. It would really suck if we got married and I disappeared suddenly, returning to the future."

"Elora I must tell you, you are under a misapprehension. You see you say you are not really a comtesse, but as matter of fact you are. I believe I explained to you once before I signed your patents of nobility with my royal seal. Your family may not have been of such a title, but you certainly are. I provided your true Christian name on the document; it is legal. I established you as a comtesse. And further more, in marrying Chartres, whether you are a comtesse or not, you will truly be a duchesse in your own right. So I will hear no more of you being unworthy or pretending at something."

With her head still in his lap he looked down at her stunned expression. "Thank you, Louis. I suppose I never thought about it. Wow, that's pretty cool.–My other points still stand though."

"I sense it is useless to argue further. You do present several very valid statements so I will pressure you no longer. Your mind appears to be decided. Please do me one favor?"

"Anything."

"Do not mention the possibility of you returning to your time ever again. I cannot imagine my life with you being part of it."

"Oh, Louis, I'm sorry. I promise not to talk about it again."

They arrived at a small inn just before sunset. _La Clochette_ _Auberge_ was set atop a small hillside and was moderate in size. It would fit maybe two dozen people. The rest were not so fortunate and would have to manage with tents outside. He had invited, rather insisted, Elora to share the bedchamber with him. He reminded her they had to give the appearance they were intimate. She resisted at first, but soon agreed after he assured her they would merely be sharing the bed.

Elora got out of the carriage with her hair completely in disarray. She had taken most on the pins out and left her hair loose for the long day's ride, but he assumed she would put in some effort before letting others see her in such a condition. He could only smile and shake his head at her lack of caring about her appearance at that moment. He on the other hand had to ensure everything was in place; his hair and no to mention his clothes.

Elora's trusted servant had gone ahead with the rest of the servants and she was already in the bedchamber with a bath waiting. He paced himself, sitting with some gentlemen downstairs and enjoyed a bit of brandy before going to the bedchamber. He knew Elora would need a little time to prepare for bed before he entered with his entourage to assist him to bed.

When Louis entered the bedchamber with his officers to be undressed. He saw Elora was already asleep, sunken into the featherbed. His personal mattress was taken with him everyplace he went. Hence it was of very good quality and very soft, as if lying on a cloud. It was no wonder she was already asleep.

He looked to Bontemps to draw the curtains around the bed. When he was ready to get into the bed he noticed somehow Elora had completely stretched out and was now taking up the entire bed. What was he to do? Three months ago he would simply wake the woman in bed so she could make room for him. Now in this sweet moment he found it difficult merely to consider waking her.

First taking a deep breath, then with a gentle hand he slowly moved her legs towards the other side of the bed. "Hmm…" she mumbled. "Louis, is that you?"

"Yes, go back to sleep," he said lightly.

She scrunched over to the other side of the bed to give him some room and again planted a pillow between them, wordlessly letting him know his boundaries.

They slept together comfortably in any case. He woke in the middle of the night with her arm resting on his chest. This was not what so much what startled him. His hand was lovingly resting on her arm. Somehow the pillow had shoved out of place between them and now they were in an awkward position. Perhaps sleeping the same bed as Elora was not such a good idea. Slowly and delicately he pulled away from her person, adjusted the pillow between them, and went back to sleep all without waking her.

The next day they set out early, continuing their journey for Chartres Chateau. Elora was sure to only have a spot of tea with dry toast for her morning meal, fearing she would be ill again in the carriage. He assured her today would be shorter day; they should reach the chateau by mid-afternoon. She was feeling well enough today to actually stay sitting up and even look out the window at the countryside they passed.

He had not yet seen her costume for the ball, for she had been purposely secretive about it. "I would have asked the couturière to reveal this secret, but I did not want to ruin your surprise.–But I did ask her the colour of your costume."

"Why, did you want us to match?" Elora asked with a smile.

"No, but I do want to give you this." As he pulled a white velvet bag from his jacket pocket he saw her eyes light up with excitement.

"Oh Louis, thank you, but it is really I who should be getting you a present. It is your birthday after all." She took the small bag and untied it. In her hand was a rich, deep purple, heart-cut amethyst on a thick gold chain. "It's beautiful! Gee, the stone is practically the size of a ping-pong ball."

He loved to give Elora little things, adoring her honest surprise and gratitude. "I know you do not like ostentatious ornaments, but this was the simplest jewel I could gift you with without feeling like a cad."

"Thank you, Louis. I wish you could truly know how much I appreciate your attention. Wouldn't you have rather taken another girl to the ball instead of me?"

"No Elora, I chose you. Our child must be taken care of properly and so must his mother. You will be my only mistress for the time being. We _must_ make it appear you conceived our child by me."

A tear dropped down her cheek. She softly apologized for becoming weepy every time he said the right thing. She leaned toward him and affectionately kissed his cheek. "Louis, there's not another man in the whole world like you. I'm so glad God placed me in your safe hands."

When they finally reached Chartres Chateau Elora was awe-struck at the beauty of the estate. "Chris had mentioned his house, but never described its grandeur. It's an enormous medieval castle. Look, there's a tower at each of the four points of the castle. There's even a moat with a drawbridge. The grounds are picturesque, though none can compare to the grounds at Versailles. And look there's a small lake in the distance, the one Chris and Thérèse must have learned to swim in. Louis are you seeing this!"

"Elora calm yourself. What sort of residence did you expect of a Duc of France?"

"Nothing as lovely as this."

"All this could have been yours if you had accepted Chartres proposal. Duchesse Elora."

"Sure Louis, just rub salt in the wound," she laughed sarcastically.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Christophe had been living with an unabashed broken heart for the past eleven days. He had taken his sister away from court with him only five days earlier than they had planned to leave. She had been very upset with him; perhaps she would have been more understanding if he had only shared the truth with her. He could not remain there, forced to see her every day, thrown together with her, while Thérèse and Cesaire enjoyed time with each other. He could not bring himself to tell his dear sister for the shame. She could have given him some consolation or even some better explanation of why that night had gone so wrong, but it was too late now. She had not spoken to him more than ten words since their going away from court; mostly for the simple reason that his decision to leave was so sporadic she had no time to bid Cesaire goodbye. She had mentioned Elora once or twice in passing, but he cut her off quickly, not wanting to hear her name ever again, no matter purposely speaking of her.

He was not in the spirit for a ball, especially one with all the pomp necessary for the king. His mother had been planning this ball for months, so nothing he could say would convince her to call it off. He knew for certain Elora had been included when the invitations were composed, his sister made sure of that. Since neither one knew of the humiliation he felt from being rejected, in their minds there was no reason not to invite Elora. He had expected his sister would receive a letter from her, if not mentioning the night of his offer, in the very least a cordial note to keep up a correspondence. No letter ever arrived. Did she now imagine to sever her connection with his family entirely?

He could not understand why Elora did not want him. He had never imagined she would refuse him. She always looked on him with a loving smile, even when he was drinking and made a fool of himself. Whenever he showed his affection, she received it without any hint of disinterest. Were these not all signs that pointed toward love? He had been in no doubt she was in love him, but she had insisted most assertively she was not.

His pride was mortally wounded. Every woman he knew would jump at the chance of a marriage proposal from the Duc de Chartres. He knew she was a romantic, but he had no idea she would be nonsensical to his proposal, claiming lack of love as her reason why she would not accept him. There had to be another reason why she would refuse his suit.

He would be seeing her tonight. She would be dazzling and hanging on the arm of another, while he would have to look on and be gracious, as was his duty as the host of this ball. He did not want to see her, but at the same time he could not resist the chance to look upon her again.

All the courtiers residing in the chateau had already arrived and been shown to their rooms. The king's carriage was the only not yet to arrive. He had first heard the heart-wrenching news from Lord Tergnier. His friend, Cesaire, had done his best to be one of the first to arrive, so he could tell him the news in person, but he was too late.

Lord Tergnier had by now begun, "The king has taken a lovely mistress once again. Every soul at court predicted it. His intentions toward her were so transparent since she was first introduced to court. Can you not guess, Chartres? You are well acquainted with her. Shall I tell you? The lady is the Comtesse de Valréas and she has already become very comfortable with her new position at court. It is whispered this liaison was discreetly going on for months before now. The king will do nothing without her by his side. Who do you think shares his private carriage with him today? What do you expect they do in there alone during that long journey? One can only dream. She is a lovely creature after all, how could the king resist her."

Christophe was so shaken by the news he had to excuse himself from the company forthwith. As he rushed into his chamber, he loosened his shirt-collar and slammed the door behind him. He tried to sit, but found he was too disconcerted to stay still. He moved about the room lost in thought. The idea of her making love to a man who was not he made him sick. The one request he had asked of her was to be honest with him about her relationship with the king and she lied to him directly. He had believed her lies; he cursed himself for being so trusting of her. Then what did he do next after her deceptive words were spoken? He had gone on to propose marriage to her. What a laugh she and the king must have gotten out of his foolish proposal!

It was announced throughout the house the king was arriving, everyone was to be at attention to greet him. He could not have been more vexed than at that moment. He could not manage to leave his chamber though. His mother must have sent ten servants to fetch him, but still he could not go to face King Louis and his _mistress_. His mother could not have been more infuriated at him. As soon as she got the king settled in, his was the first door she knocked on. She lectured on about duty and honor, demanding to know what had madness had stirred in him. He could give her no answer and she left the room in anger, threatening to disinherit him if he did not come down from his room tonight for the ball. "I will drag you out by your ear if I must!" She would certainly go through with such threats too.

He dressed himself for the evening and went down to join his family, though he was not pleased about it. The three of them were dressed in a matching theme of the sea. They all were arrayed in blue, with each of them having a unique embroidered design of ships, waves, mermaids, and other sea creatures. Their mother especially was simply dripping with diamonds from head to toe. She had thought of the theme herself and was very proud, though he thought very little of it.

It was said the king was coming down the torch-lit hall. All of the other guests were in the ballroom, standing at attention. It was King Louis' tradition to be last at parties, though it inconvenienced everyone else.

His cousin, the king appeared at the top of the stairhead to be announced, with _her_ standing happily at his side. "His Majesty, King Louis XIV and Lady Elora Roux, Comtesse de Valréas."

Everyone stared with admiration and envy at the king and the comtesse. Whispers spread that they were the most handsome couple, yet he could see nothing complimentary about the two as a pair. They stood for a very long, vain moment to let the entire party see their costumes.

His Majesty's garb was all of golden satin and upon his head was a solid gold crown of the sun's rays. His blue-green eyes nearly glowed, enhanced by the golden eye shadow painted around his eyes. It was not an original costume idea for him and he looked less than impressive tonight.

It was Elora's costume that widened everyone's eye, including his. She was daintily dressed as a butterfly. The gown itself was of amethyst-purple lamé silk with a succulent plunging neckline. The collar was comprised of bunched teal silk wrapped with thick silver thread. The gown was pulled back by silver clasps encrusted with diamonds to reveal the sapphire blue underskirt. The short purple sleeves were slightly puffed and tied with silver thread. The long wings were the highlight of her costume. The inner layer was of teal gauze, then next layer of blue gauze, and then the outer border layer was of purple gauze. Every inch of the costume was sprinkled with tiny beads of amethyst, sapphire, and aquamarine.

Her hair was parted in a zigzag fashion, with two buns at the top of her head with strands of curls hanging all around. Stems of fresh royal purple orchids were decorating the buns. Antennas of diamond chips sprouted forth from the center of the buns.

He had never seen her looking so radiant. His anger faded as she descended upon them and jealousy took its place. She looked happy, indeed how could she not be with the king on her arm. He was sure she had been planning this since her arrival at Versailles. He and his sister were just pawns to be used to get her closer to the king. Everything was becoming clear now.

King Louis and Elora began to walk down the stairway with a great deal of grace. Thérèse smiling brightly and their mother stared intently at Louis. They stood in row, side by side, at the bottom of the stairs ready to greet them.

"Your Majesty," began the Douairiere Duchesse, as the king and she reached the bottom stair. She and Thérèse curtsied and he bowed. "Chartres is greatly honored by your presence on this very special occasion. I was in the queen's room when she delivered you into this world twenty-five years ago. We wish you the happiest of birthdays! We are confident that you will greatly enjoy this night. We have plenty to entertain you tonight and tomorrow." She turned her gaze to Elora. "My dear Comtesse, I am glad to meet you. I wish we had met when I was last at court. Unfortunately, I must have left right before you arrived. My daughter has spoken so well of you I feel like I know you myself. Your costume is absolutely charming, my dear.–Thérèse, you already know, but you may not have met my son Christophe, Duc of Chartres."

Elora glanced for a moment at Chris, before responding to his mother. He felt a tightness in his chest when her green eyes looked his way. "Yes, your grace, we have met on more than several occasions.–My lord, it is good to see you again."

Her look was concerned, wary, almost guilty. Did she actually care about him at this moment or was it simply a selfish desire not to be disliked.

"Oh, so you are acquainted with my son?"

He noted as the king held her arm in his, he could see the ever so slight affectionate rubbing of her arm with his thumb. His anger rose, but what could he do? It was His Majesty's right to take any woman he wished as his mistress, but why did it have to be the only woman he had ever loved.

Chris took a deep breath and with forced cordiality said, "It is good to become reacquainted with you once again, Comtesse.–With your permission, Your Majesty, I would claim a dance with the Comtesse this night."

Why had he just said that? He surprised himself more than Elora, whose eyes widened at the gesture.

"Of course, Chartres. I will grant your request. I am sure she is honored."

"And I am," assured Elora. "Thank you, my lord."

The night wore on. Elora danced most with His Majesty, yet many other gentlemen of the court, now suddenly taking interest in her because of her higher position, danced with her as well. Even Colbert danced with her and he knew how much she would be enjoying that. Colbert did not really ask her though. Christophe had been standing by and heard the whole of it. The three of them had been talking and Louis offered him his partner for a dance. Colbert was not about to refuse and insult his king, so he reluctantly agreed.

After dinner when the dancing had started again Christophe claimed Elora for the next dance. He was anything but happy asking her, but knew such a thing must be done. She agreed, cheerfully taking his hand. "Thank you for inviting me to your party."

"I did not. My mother must have, Comtesse.–Does your new position as the king's mistress suit your fancy?"

His malicious words cut through her like a knife; her face was shocked and hurt, just the sentiments he had desired to stir in her. "It's complicated, Chris. If you knew my reasons, you would be more understanding. I know how everything appears, but it's not at all what you think, I assure you."

"Comtesse, you have no idea as to what I think on the subject.–Exactly how long has this liaison been transpiring?"

She grew angry as her voice became more condescending, "Do you mean how long I have been shagging the king? You disappoint me, Chris. I thought you better than petty jealousy. If you really wanted to know out of concern I would tell you. But since you are acting like this I will tell you what you want to hear." This was another moment where he did not understand what she had said, but overwhelmingly grasped her meaning. "I have slept in King Louis' bed many times since I first arrived at Versailles." Her words became shaky and strained. "Nearly three months, I guess."

"I supposed as much. You always paid too much attention to His Majesty for it to be anything less. And why wait so long to make it public knowledge? Why do you admit this to me now when you so innocently and sincerely denied it when we spoke only days ago?"

"Probably because I expected you would act like the jerk you are acting like now. Hmm. Too bad I was right."

"Comtesse, you are a–"

"Now, now, none of that. There was a time not so long ago when you called me Elora. You said you loved the sound of it.–Are things so very different now?"

"Everything has changed." He would not even look her straight in the eye.

"Only because I hurt your pride, Chris. I could not marry you without loving you and I hope you wouldn't want me to. We would never get along. I'm too independent and I'll never change."

"If only the king had not…"

"None of what has gone on between us has anything to do with King Louis or my relationship with him. When you proposed, I considered our relationship, yours and mine. Louis was never a factor in how I felt or in my decision." The dance began. They circled around hand to hand, then turned circling in the other direction. "I am sorry I hurt you. I really am. There's nothing else I can say to make it better."

Still dancing, he picked her up at the waist and held her up in the air for a few seconds. His touch was kindly, not that of a scorned lover as he was feeling. For an instant the image of him carrying her over the threshold came to mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly.

He lowered her down until her feet touched the floor again. "Elora, I do not desire your excuses or your apologies. I only want you as my wife."

Elora's eyes widened and her head slightly tilted when she replied, "Chris, haven't you heard anything I've said? This is exactly your problem; you only hear what you want to. You say you love me, but have you ever really taken the time to get to know me? You don't even know who I really am. You should not take such a leap of faith on me. I could be a woman with a scandalous past. How would you know? No one could possibly know of my family here or my past. I could be a black-widow, looking for my next rich victim to marry and bump off. I could be a really bad person, Chris."

"Are you?" he asked doubtfully.

"Well no, but I could be and you would not know. My point is you cannot love superficially. You have to truly know what's in a girl's heart before you can fall in love with her.–You don't really know me, not the real me.–You have never asked about my past or how I came to be in France or about my family. You could have asked me anything. I might have told you the truth about myself then."

"Then tell me now. I want to know. I did not ask before because I thought it would hurt you."

"You're too late."

Christophe was angry enough at that moment to strangle her. She arrogantly refused his marriage proposal again. "Well, I will just have to go beyond you then." He lifted her into the air again, roughly this time, but not meaning to.

He felt her posture straighten out as her muscles tightened. She questioned what he meant. She stood still while he danced around her, never losing eye contact with him.

"I will speak to the king and he will arrange the marriage. You cannot refuse your king as you have refused me. He will give you to me as soon as he's through with you, which will likely be very soon. He will not deny me anything. You will have no choice but to marry me."

Now was Elora's turn to dance around him. "You can't force me into a marriage and neither can King Louis. I may be his ward, but he does not own me."

"What do you think being ward to the king entails?" He laughed cruelly. "It's his primary responsibility to marry you off. You are his property and he can do with you what he chooses."

She began to shout, "The king would never do that to me!" Then realizing she was getting too loud she lowered her voice, but remained agitated. "He's my friend. Besides, I already have an arrangement with him that only God can break."

The guests began to stare, but neither noticed nor cared.

"I am the Duc de Chartres, Comtesse. I am related by blood to the king. You will be my wife, whether you love me or not." His voice was coarse and desperate.

"I am related to the king as well and closer than you."

Christophe had no chance to completely absorb her last resolute statement. He was taken aback when Elora abruptly stopped dancing. She stood in the middle of the floor, jerking forward for a moment and pressing her hands to her abdomen.

He moved closer to her. Christophe suddenly became concerned and his voice was gentle, "Elora, are you unwell?"

"Ahhhhhh!" she shuddered at a near whisper when it happened again. Another lady still dancing bumped into her and Elora got knocked forward. She grabbed at his jacket, clutching with a tight grasp to stay steady. Her squinted grimace and pouting lips put him into a state of great anxiety and concern. Something was terribly wrong with her health. He put his arms about her for support, not knowing what else to do at such a moment.

"Ahhhhhhhh!–Chris…I need…Ahhhh." She could not even finish what she had wanted to say before she lost consciousness. He caught her within his arms and lowered her to the floor. An instant later King Louis was there beside her. Then the whole party crowded around them and the music abruptly ceased. He did not even have time to think about what was happening.

"What have you done, Chartres?" The king had never looked upon him with so much anger in his eyes.

"I do not…nothing…we were arguing–"

"Help me get these confounded wings off her," the king ordered, cutting him short. After they finally figured out how to get them off her nearly lifeless body Louis picked her up. "Chartres, don't just stand there! See to a room, God damn it! There are too many eyes watching and they have seen too much as it is."

King Louis followed him into the nearest available room. "This is my chamber, Your Majesty. There is complete privacy here I assure you." King Louis laid her down on the bed. She was still unconscious. Christophe then noticed the king's right hand stained in blood.

"Your Majesty, you are wounded?"

"No…it is not my blood."

"What, then whose…" Christophe stopped in mid-sentence, looking toward his love. "Elora…" he whispered.

"She is with child. No one is to know.–You had better get a physician here double quick. We could lose her and the child, neither of us wants that I'm sure."

Elora was with child! Who was the father? The king? It was quite possible. He could always see the lust in the king's eyes whenever he looked at Elora. No wonder she had not been scared of his threats. Not only was she the king's highly favored mistress, but she also held the first royal bastard in her belly. She was the most powerful woman in France, but no one yet knew it.

"It will take at least an hour to get the physician here. In the village there is a midwife my family trusts. I can have her here within ten minutes."

"Then get to it!"

Christophe ran to fetch Madame Lellouche himself. He was in utter shock, never having been charged with such an important task in a crisis. If it were not Elora who was the person in need, he would have turned to her during such time as this.

He found himself running towards the stables for his horse. He could not remember the last time he had run so quickly. His mother tried to stop him to question him, but he would not be halted for a moment, not when Elora's life was in danger.

Madame Lellouche was at home when he found her. With minimal explanation he hurried her in the direction of the chateau, riding behind him on his horse, carrying her medicine sack over his shoulder. He did his best to describe Elora's condition to her as they rode. Her concern was if she was bleeding so heavily she might be miscarrying. He wished that might no be so, for Elora might blame him.

The midwife entered his bedchamber with great haste; taking into consideration she was an older lady. She had delivered him twenty-six years ago and was still delivering children into this world. Nearly as soon as she entered King Louis exited, likely shooed out by the lady. She had no patience for nobility and she probably did not realize the man she was pushing from the room was her king.

Elora's pregnancy was wholly unexpected to him. How long had she known she was with child? Why did she not want to marry him? If she were compromised then one would assume she would want to marry quickly to save her reputation. Yet she still refused to marry him. Either she truly despised him or she had principles.

"Will she be fine?" was all Christophe could ask most desperately after a few minutes of silence in the antechamber.

"I know not, but it is likely the baby will not survive." King Louis approached him as if he were going to strike him, there was no compassion in his eyes. He did not shy away, for he knew he would deserve anything the king might do to him. Though he began to shout in his face he did not strike him. "What did you do to her Chartres? I want the whole of it! If she loses this baby, family or not, you will greatly regret it. Elora Roux is more valuable to me than you can imagine."

"I heartily apologize, Your Majesty. I did not mean for this to happen. We were arguing about our acquaintance with each other. I did not know of her delicate condition, I promise you or I would not have–"

"Do not finish that sentence, Chartres. I know exactly what you were quarreling about. Before arriving here she modestly informed me she had already refused your suit. I was surprised, but then Elora is always surprising me. Despite my encouragement in favor of the match she insisted she could not marry you. Her pregnancy was not even the foremost reason why she refused you. She has an ocean of trauma in her past, which disturbs even myself. Her life has not been easy these past few months. I will not have you hurting her more." The king finally sat in a red velvet armchair by the window overlooking the lake.

"Trauma? She brought up something similar to me, but used English words I was unfamiliar with. I do not want to hurt her. I love her dearly."

There was not much about the night he first proposed he remembered other than her negative words and her refusal. Her hands had been mysteriously injured; perhaps her excuse of a fall was untrue and someone had injured her. She had spoken much more, which he had not thought of until this moment. She mentioned haunting memories, a broken spirit, and of late weakness of mind. Elora insisted he did not truly know her and he was now finding she was in fact accurate. Was the king responsible for all of this or could it be someone else he did not know of?

More silence went by until he could bear his thoughts of Elora no longer. He drew close to the king, who still sat by the window. He wanted to ask if the child was King Louis', but instead asked, "How far long is she, Your Majesty?"

"Nearly three months, though she has known about it only a short time. She does not like deception, but I convinced her it was necessary for the time being."

"I wish she had told me. I would not have been so hard on her. I could have helped her."

"If Elora hates anything in this world it is charity. She likes her independence and not having to depend on anyone. It was a challenge for even I to secure her as my mistress in the public's eye so I might rightfully claim the child. She was more worried about my reputation than hers if you can believe it."

"She carries a royal child then?"

He looked at him with a glace upward, as if he had known he was coming to such a question all along. "She will tell you such details herself if she likes."

Madame Lellouche opened the door and stepped out of the room that both he and the king had been staring at for the past half hour. Her wrinkled face had more wrinkles in all the worrisome areas. She had bad news, he knew.

"I am sad to tell you the lady has lost the baby." He looked to the king, who had bowed his head down mournfully, looking sincerely distressed. He had never seen such a depth of feeling from his cousin. He never imagined Louis could care so dearly for anything; he always appeared so superficial. "There was nothing to be done. There was too much bleeding and the baby was already gone to heaven. It was a wee lad, I believe. Your Grace, perhaps a priest should be sent for."

"How is Elora?" both he and the king asked at once.

Her brow arched, suddenly realizing the situation. Both were obviously in love with Elora; he certainly could not conceal such feelings at such a moment and neither could the king. Madame Lellouche must have seen the signet ring on Louis' hand as she let her eyes fall over him in assessment. She suddenly bowed to the floor, hastily saying, "Forgive me, Majesty!"

"Rise. Tell me how the lady fares."

"She has not yet regained consciousness, but she will be well as long as the bleeding stops and no disease sets in. I gave her something to ease the pain and let her sleep. She should be recuperated within a few weeks. I do not believe this will effect her having children in the future.–I must go back in to tend to her."

The clock struck twelve, with the loud gong alarming them both out the tense silence. "Congratulations, Your Majesty, it is your birthday today," he forced himself to say.

"I had hoped for this to be a happier day. I like to look ahead to the future, but never foresaw such an event occurring tonight. It does not suit my temperament to celebrate today, please explain my regrets to your mother. We will continue with the celebrations another day."

"As you wish."

King Louis sat down in a nearby chair again, seeming weary. "Chartres, you are dismissed from my presence. Speak no word of this to anyone, such would be a treasonous act and punishable."

"I swear my life, Your Majesty." He bowed and left the room. Though she had lost the child, she was safe and now had a bright future ahead of her. He would make sure of that.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

King Louis walked down the main stairs and through the hall of Chartres Castle in the direction of Elora's bedchamber. He had received word from the midwife that Elora had woken and he would not delay seeing her. He had wanted to stay with her at her bedside, but everyone objected. This was the week of his birthday celebration after all. So he played the part of a jubilant king to please the world, but his stomach had been in knots since the night of the ball through all of yesterday.

When last Louis remembered a time being so distressed was the day his mother died. It was a dreary January afternoon when the illness took her life. He was not at her side because the physicians believed her illness was of a contagious nature and they could not risk their king becoming ill and dying as well. He was told by the two nuns caring for her at Val-de-Grace in Paris that she died peacefully, praying the rosary. At her funeral, even in death, her regal beauty and aroma of roses remained. The human body was such a fragile entity. He had learned the lesson that life was brief, so no moment should ever be wasted.

The remembrance of his mother had faded from his memory for some time, but came rushing back when he saw Elora lying unconscious on the dance floor. His chest tightened as his heart pounded faster and faster. Elora Roux was more fragile than he ever cared to notice. The feelings he had for her motivated him to jump through rings of hell's fire for her. He had even been prepared to acknowledge her bastard child as his own. He cared, yet he still could not understand how she could create these feelings within him.

After being told he would have had a son and that the child was no more, his spirits crumbled. He had known Elora was of hardy stock that would breed only sons. She had desired a son too. He had wanted this child to come into the world safely. Elora would have been near him always because of his connection with the child. She would have been so dependent on him her future would have been fixed. Even when he finally married she could not be required to be sent away.

Now his plans were ruined and it was entirely Christophe Morlaix's fault. He caused Elora's miscarriage. His mind fell back into anger toward a single person. He was furious at Chartres for what he had done to upset Elora, which was evidently the reason she lost their child. He barely spoke with him since and Chartres did not dare approach him, likely in fear of rebuke. He wanted to converse with Elora before casting a punishment.

He was not so insensible not to recognize it was in her best interest this tragedy occurred. Now she would not have to face the constant reminder of her rape. There would also be fewer complications in their relationship. He saw no reason why they should take a step back in their friendship. If anything this experience had taken them a colossal stride forward.

He was relieved beyond words to hear this morning Elora would be recuperated within several weeks. Even though her life so very important to him, he now had to restrain the extent of these feelings when others were present. Colbert told him some courtiers were noting his benevolent demeanor regarding Elora as weakness; he was almost appearing dependent on her. Louis knew such a belief was ridiculous. He did not depend on Elora; he merely enjoyed her presence and wanted her well informed of his designs. He took pleasure in her opinions, for she certainly had an opinion of everything and had no fear of voicing them to him. Perhaps sometimes after she mentioned her perspective of a matter his opinion was swayed in that direction, but he would hardly claim to be dependent on her.

Louis saw Elora's serving girl waiting for him outside the bedchamber door in the anteroom. She was wringing her hands and had an anxious look about her. As he drew closer she made a low curtsy, but still looked up to him with nervous eyes.

"How is her condition?"

She explained to him how her mistress had behaved the night before. Elora had woken in the middle of the night screaming, unknowing of where she was. She told her she had been unconscious for some time and she no longer had the child in her womb. She waited for a reaction from Elora, but she gave no sign of grief or gladness. Her only response was to ask how long she had to stay in bed.

Suzanne had to nearly tie her down to keep her in bed this morning. She could not make Elora understand that she had lost a great deal of blood. The midwife had come just in time and used scientific reason to convince Elora, but she was still very discontented about her bedbound situation.

The servant quickly led him in the room, opening the door for him.

When he entered Elora greeted him cordially, "Your Majesty, I've been expecting you." She bowed her head. "I'm glad you came."

Louis stared at Elora's haggard appearance and felt a surge of pity for her. There was no rosy cheeks or jovial smile that normally complemented her exquisite features. He had never seen her so exceedingly pale; she might have been mistaken for a corpse. She was sitting up in bed with about a dozen pillows surrounding her, propping her up. She wore a blue silk, long-sleeved nightdress, which did not suit her. He had grown so accustomed to seeing her wear her futuristic nightclothes, this dress made her appearance even blander.

She looked sickly and unhappy. He could understand her frustrations having to stay abed. The poor thing, he thought, she never for one moment wanted to look weak. She did not want her defenses down for one moment. Her constitution was regularly so strong. It must have killed her being in such a powerless condition.

As soon as the door closed and they were alone she reached out her arms for him. Lacking all decorum, he quickly moved to her bedside, taking her within his tight embrace. "I am sorry for your loss, Elora."

"Louis, I am the one who's sorry. You really wanted this baby and I couldn't give it to you. It's my fault we lost the baby; I did so much incorrectly before I knew I was pregnant. I over-exercised, I drank wine with meals every day, I didn't take prenatal vitamins, I didn't eat right, and I sat in smoky rooms. I killed our son!"

She looked at him mournfully, but shed no tears. He embraced her once again, never feeling so much sorrow in the whole of his life. "No, Elora. If the fault lies anywhere it is with me. I am the one who insisted you accompany me on this long journey to Chartres. Doctor Dubuque told me it was not a smart idea, but I assumed if we went along slow enough you would have no troubles."

"I seriously doubt that was the cause, Louis."

"Then it must have been Chartres.–Elora, you must tell me what Chartres said to you while you danced."

"I'd rather not." She looked down at the bed-sheets in her lap.

How could she still want to protect Chartres, still think well of him? "Do not protect him!" He pounded his hand against the bedpost. "He did this to you!"

"Louis, chill out! I didn't miscarry because of an argument. Something just must have been wrong the baby. It was God's will.–So now at least I do not have to burden you with the demands of parenthood.–Once I have my strength back I'm going to England and maybe on to America."

_England_! She was insane. What could have given her such an idea on such a day? How could she want to leave him? It was not like she was being mistreated at his court. He was giving her a very privileged life. He had supported her through her brief pregnancy and befriended her.

"Elora, you are still welcome at my court, if that is why–"

"No, that is not why. I need to get away. I've hurt too many people here. I can't stand it. I've lost your baby, broken Chris' heart, and I will soon lose Thérèse as my friend the minute she finds out how terribly I've treated her brother. There is nothing for me here. I need to go someplace new."

"I have no such grudge against you. As for the Morlaix's, if they are your true friends they will forgive you." She did not hear a word he said though. She did not want consolation, but rather punishment, which he could not give. "What precisely do you plan on doing once you arrive in England?"

"Likely, try to find work."

"Elora, you do not understand that England far differs from France. You will not be as welcome there as you are here with me. They will not know about your past as I do. You will never be at home there. You would leave Versailles to go and live among the Puritans?–No, I will not allow it!"

Instead of replying, she pushed him off the bed with great force. Her anger blew him to the floor as if he were in the eye of a tempest. He had not expected such a violent reaction. He did not even think she had that much strength in her frail body.

"Why are you making me a slave?"

"Damn it, Elora! I am only trying to protect you!" He stood up, arms-length from her, not wanting her to strike out at him again. "God left you in my care. Merely days ago you even said you were glad of it."

"Just leave me alone. I can take care of myself."

"No you cannot! Not in this century."

"If I could storm out of here I would. So seeing that I cannot, you'd better leave!"

"Comtesse, you must try to see reason. I will return once you have calmed yourself."

"Then you shall be waiting a long time before you see me again because I am as calm now as I will ever be."

He stormed out of the room leaving Elora venting steam in her bed. What was he going to do with her?

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Why was she always so hard on Louis? He knew all of her secrets, their friendship was the truest she had here. Yet he was the one who evoked the most anger and frustration in her. Now she wished she had not said such things to him.

When she had woken last night she could not help but let out a small scream. After opening her eyes she was once again in a dark, unfamiliar room. "Not again," she thought. Where was she now; Medieval Camelot, Ancient Greece, or the Roman Era? When Suzanne came in the room, candle in hand, she was slightly relieved, even though she wished she were back home.

Then she was told she had a miscarriage. She had suspected that was what her pains were from. It was obviously God's will. And now the extra little life in her was gone and she felt herself being reborn. God had given her a second chance. She fully intended to take advantage of that.

Once Suzanne had left the room, Elora remained in her bed mourning the loss of the child she would never have and never really wanted. Life was unpredictable that way. Having a miscarriage was like being raped all over again; the ripping pain and the feeling of total helplessness. The bleeding had lessened since the first twenty-four hours, she was told by Suzanne, but her muscles still ached, she felt tired from doing nothing, and the disgusting memory of Rob even now plagued her thoughts.

The midwife had been in to see her early this morning, just before Louis had come in. She was a nice woman, with a good head on her shoulders. She was glad to finally see a female professional in this time. It was too bad she herself knew practically nothing about midwifery or that might be something she would consider doing when she went to England.

Madame Lellouche had explained to her what had happened that night, what she did for her yesterday, and explained what she was to expect from her body within the next couple of weeks.

She wanted to get out of bed, but the midwife insisted she rest for at least another day. If tomorrow she felt enough strength, she could get up for a short time, which was enough to content her for the time being. She really could have gotten out of bed today if she put her mind to it. People of this time really over-reacted to a miscarriage.

Elora hated the idea of being stuck at Chartres; so the visit was full of good news, she would be able to leave soon. She was horrified at the scene she had caused at the ball. She was always imposing on someone; she was like a charity case in this century. First she imposed upon Louis, now she was staying in Chris' bedroom and imposing on the entire Morlaix family.

"You are very lucky, my lady, to have two great men in love with you,' said the midwife. "They were both so attentive and very concerned for your person while you lied unconscious."

"Two men? I was only aware of the Duc de Chartres' love."

"His grace rushed me to the castle himself and could not hide his worry for you. His Majesty, the king, is also very much in love with you. Has it escaped your notice? I assumed he was the father of the child. He experienced the most grief from the sad news."

"He was the father. He may love me, but he is not in love with me."

"Forgive me, but you are mistaken. I know the difference. He is very much in love with you."

"I hope you are wrong. Such a love can never be fulfilled, not by me. He is a king."

Louis in love with her? No, the woman had to be mistaken. Just because he showed concern, did not mean he was in love. Louis did not know how to love, at least not anyone save himself. She forgot such notions of love as soon as the midwife left.

She threw back the sheets and stood. She was a little dizzy for a moment and sat back down. After making several vain attempts she continued to end up back on the bed. "Okay, Elora," she said to herself. "You can do this. Just stand up and walk over to the chair." But she could not do it; her body was just too weak.

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Christophe made his way down the hall to visit his chamber. He had heard Elora Roux was over the worst and he could hardly contain his excitement to go to visit her. Thérèse stepped out of her room at just the time he passed. She inquired where he was going and he could hardly lie. She insisted she join him. She had wanted to call on Elora sometime today as well. He was not very pleased, he had wanted to converse with Elora in private.

One of the king's guards stood at the door. He wondered why such a precaution was being taken with her now. His servant knocked at her door. As soon as she granted them entrance, the doors were opened so they may walk in.

She smiled slightly at seeing them, but remained sitting up in the bed. Her coloring was terribly pale. He rarely saw her with her hair fully let down. He still could not believe how intolerably short it was. Her sky-blue nightgown gave her an innocent appearance.

His first task was to present to her a bouquet of flowers he had chosen from the gardens himself. "Greetings Elora, how are you feeling today?" He handed her the lovely pink lilies.

"Oh Elora, are you very ill?" exclaimed Thérèse.

She smiled. "I'm glad to see you both. No Thérèse, I am not very sick and I am feeling much better today." She patted the edge of the bed for his sister to sit. He took it upon himself to pull up a chair closer to them.

"I do not even know what your condition is. Christophe merely informed me you had fainted from the heat and still felt unwell. I know there is much more to it than that. I saw the concern in my brother's eyes all day yesterday. I was troubled with the possibility you were direly ill and dying."

She looked toward him, "Your grace, thank you for giving me a chance to tell her myself."

"As I hear so often from His Majesty, it was not my secret to tell."

Her look became solemn and her voice soft and shaken, "You know before I came here to France, I always hated lies and secrets. From living here such a short time my entire life has become an intricate web of that which I hated most. I've been so caught up in it I did not realize I had gotten myself in so deep. I cannot imagine what you two must think of me because to you these lies are truth. I wish I could tell you everything now, but I can't." Thérèse took her hand supportively. "Though I will be honest with you about this. I'm telling you this in the strictest confidence. I know I will not regret having faith in your honor. Everything you think you know to be truth for weeks now were lies. I wanted to tell you the truth before, but I still couldn't form the words out loud. I deceived the world, including myself for a while. I was in shock when I found out. I've been thinking that you deserve to know, especially you, your grace."

She spoke of being raped in such explicit terms, he and his sister could hardly keep from being moved to tears. She left out the name of the man was who did such a damned thing, which vexed him. The man could still be the king. This news explained so much. Chris cursed under his breath. How quickly all of his assumptions rooted in certainty fell apart when hearing the truth. She added to the story she had been with child, which could not have surprised Thérèse any more than it had him.

"I couldn't even remember what had happened that dark night until the doctor gave me the pregnancy news a couple of weeks ago. I had somehow repressed the memory completely." Her voice was crackling in and out, as her eyes could not longer hold back tears. "I only wish I could repress it again. I've been reliving it everyday since and it still terrifies me.–Thérèse, will you even speak to me now that you know my situation?"

She assured Elora that nothing she could say or do would ever hinder their friendship. Thérèse gave her the sympathy and love he wanted to give at that moment. He could not say a word. He had no right. The awful words that passed between them could never be forgotten. Perhaps she even blamed him for her miscarriage as the king did. She would never forgive him.

"There is more, your brother already knows this part. I miscarried the baby, that is why I fainted and have been stuck in bed these past couple of days."

Thérèse hugged her. "I love you dearly. Your misfortunes are mine. I never imagined such a confession."

Elora was unsure how long she would still be staying at Chartres, but hoped it would only be for another few days. Thérèse informed her the family would be returning to court in a fortnight and everything will be as it was.

"Everything has changed. Nothing will ever be as it was, Thérèse."

"We will leave you now to rest." She stood, but he remained. "Christophe, are you coming."

"I will follow shortly."

Thérèse nodded and left the room without another word. Now it was only the two of them, just how he wanted.

Elora looked at him for a long moment before speaking, as if she were trying to decide something important. "Your grace, can you help me over to that chair by the window?"

With a wordless nod he made a quick stride toward her as she moved to the side of the bed. As she stood he took hold of her arm to support her and wrapped his other arm around her waist with a tender yet firm grip. They finally made it to the chair after taking what seemed like fifty short steps within the distance of about ten feet. She sighed with relief as she sat in the cushioned armchair. He could have carried her to the chair more quickly, but he understood her need to walk.

"Thank you for letting me stay in here. I know I've been such a bother to many of you."

He sat down in the chair facing her and insisted the contrary. He could not remember being so nervous around her ever before. Her silent stare was piercing. He never imagined that this would be the reason for Elora Roux to be in his bedchamber. He always assumed when she would be in his bed she would be his wife and it would be her bed too.

He patiently waited for her to say something. "So, I suppose you're wondering why I didn't tell you I was pregnant before now."

"It was not my intention to invade your privacy. Your condition was not something one boasts about. Yet a king's child cannot be deemed shameful either."

She nodded her head, seeming almost hurt and disappointed from his words. The windows were open and a refreshing, soft breeze brushed against his face. She stared out at Louis and several courtiers playing croquet in the gardens. It was a bright and warm summer day. He could hear the king laughing and the ladies making excited sounds as they hit the balls.

"The man who raped me had courted me for three years back at my old home. Louis could never be part of such an evil deed; I just want to make that clear.–You know the night you proposed, I did not lie to you about King Louis' relationship with me. I was never really his mistress. It was just a charade to keep me safe. His decision to help me was my saving grace. I was so lost, like walking aimlessly through a thick, blinding fog. I couldn't handle having a baby at nineteen years old and especially conceived from such an incident. Louis was going to announce he was the father and save me from the shame. Everyone needed to believe my baby was Louis' child, so I could keep it without censure from the world. He would soon discard me as his mistress and with it being his child I could remain at court.–I swear on my life I'm telling you the truth. I think you, most of all, merit a full explanation of the turn of events. Please don't mention this to Louis though; it would hurt him. He really did consider the child his and it was such a noble act, I think his kind actions might be misinterpreted by others if they knew."

He never imagined such a thing would come from her lips. Rape was one matter, but such an altruistic act of devotion from the king he knew was unbelievable. He knew his cousin; Louis never did any favor for someone without expecting something in return. Could the bonds of friendship reach so far between a king and a comtesse? He could not believe she had slept in the same bed as King Louis on multiple occasions and not once did he make any advances on her. He should be nominated for sainthood for carrying out such a fete.

So Elora truly was the conservative, charming woman he knew. She was no light-skirted coquette. A fiend had raped and ravaged her, leaving her with child and making her look the wanton. Thank goodness the king was there to pick up the pieces. He was not sure he would have had enough courage to do the same for Elora. Accepting another man's child was a difficult idea to swallow.

Five minutes of silence must have gone by before she said, "Why did you come here today, Chris?"

"Well…I thought…perhaps now you might take better to the idea of…"

She turned her head looking out the window again. She was intelligent enough to understand his present motive. Was her heart still against him? He could not end it now, especially with what he knew.

"Have you spoken with the king as you said you would?–Am I being forced to the altar?–I'm sure he would allow it now. He'd do anything to keep me in France."

"Dear Lord, no. When I was blabbering on before, it was all in the insanity of the moment. I would never force you, Elora. I do not want you to hate me."

She turned back to him, meeting his gaze. "I don't hate you, Chris. I just do not like being ordered to do things."

"Elora, I have made a fool of myself twice already, yet I feel I must ask this one last time. Please listen to the words I say, for they come directly from my heart.–I am sorry I have been acting like an ass. I have told you before how much I love you. My feelings have not dissipated but amplified. I know now the first time I broached the subject you were distraught about your pregnancy, but that is no longer an obstacle for us. And when you're ready I can give you strong, healthy children. I want to know everything about you, I always have. I want to know of the dreams you have for life. I want to know about the family who raised such an extraordinary woman. I want you to tell me the qualities you desire in a husband, so I can be everything you want. I know I can make you happy if you will only give me a chance.–I will make you a duchesse. I will give you anything, if you will only marry me."

Her body shifted in the chair, uncomfortably. "Chris, why do still persist in this, even after I have told you I am not in love with you? Does this hold not influence over your decision to marry me? Isn't my loving you something important, especially if I were to be your wife?"

"It troubles me. I find it difficult to understand how you cannot, when my feelings are so strong. If you will only give this match a chance, I have to believe your love will grow for me. That with time, through our mutual friendship and benevolent, patient actions toward each other, you will fall deeply in love."

She took hold of his hands; her face was remarkably calm. She was going to turn him away, he knew. He offered her nothing more than he had before and she had not been tempted then. He wished she could just make an attempt to love him.

"Chris, both of us have been through a lot in the past few weeks. I have heard all you have to say and thank you for such loving intentions.–Would you give me a day to consider your proposal?"

Did he hear her correctly? Were his dreams about to come true? Beyond his control his eyes glazed over. His mouth curved into an immense smile. "So you are not saying no!"

"I'm saying maybe. I just need time to think about it with a clear head."

She would be his wife! He would have her for all time. She was the most wonderful girl in the world. "Elora, you've made me so happy!" He kissed her hand and stood. "If there is anything you desire anything at all you have but to ask. And if you need to speak to me I am at your disposal day and night; anytime you feel you want to converse. And please while your thinking it over always remember I love you.–Good day, Elora. I will see you tomorrow!" He bowed and moved to leave the room, but she stopped him in his tracks by taking his hand.

"Wait, Chris." She used his hand as leverage to stand. "You see, where I come from when a boy proposes to a girl he doesn't kiss her on the hand."

Her look was warm and steadfast. When she took his hand a moment ago, it felt like she had just touched him for the first time. His heart fluttered as she raised her arm to rest on his shoulder. He never recalled being so close to her as now.

"I'm not sure what this society's custom is about this situation, so I'm sorry if I'm overstepping my bounds with this…" She inched up on her tiptoes. With a soft caress to the back of his neck she slowly touched her lips to his, for a brief kiss.

That certainly had not been the first time a woman had kissed him, but it left him breathless all the same. She never looked more beautiful to him than at that moment. He wanted to kiss her again, but he did not want to push her too far and have her upset with him. Why had she spoken about being uncertain of society's customs? She lived in civilized society her entire life. How could she be afraid, while behind closed doors, to kiss the man she might marry? How could she be so unaware? Her translation, no, more like her thought process was so unusual.

"I hope that was okay with you, Chris. I just wanted to see what it was like to kiss the man who may someday be my husband."

"It was everything I hoped for and more from my future wife. So are you pleased with me?"

"Yes, I think I like kissing you. It was not awkward as I thought it would be."

"If you would permit me, I am sure I can do better at giving you an idea of what sort of husband I will be to you."

She smiled shyly and nodded her head. He then fully embraced her as he leaned down to kiss her. His hand slowly moved from her cheek to her ear, rubbing it sensually. Her passion for life was certainly equal to the passion she gave in kissing. She was quite the eager participant, pressing her body into his as they still kissed. He did not believe she would be a docile bed-partner in the future. He predicted many countless, pleasurable hours spent in this bedchamber.

"Now Chris, why couldn't you have kissed me like that months ago? This will definitely help me to make a decision.–Have a great afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow!"

He left the room floating on air. His heart was overjoyed with merriment. Her mood was so altered now she was no longer with child; her burden was gone. She was giving him a chance to prove his love for her. He had not foreseen such a tender show of affection from her. Her lips were so sweet and her touch made him tingle. She was considering his proposal and he knew by this time tomorrow she would be his fiancée.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

As the next day came to pass, Elora felt well enough to take a little walk inside the castle. She had slept on the idea of marrying Chris, but she still could not come to a real decision.

When seeing him yesterday, she was sure he would still be mad at her, as he had been the night of the ball. When he came in with a smile and flowers she knew there was nothing to worry about. She could not believe he had proposed to her for a _third_ time. This guy really did not know how to get the hint. His proposal was a surprise, but it should not have been. Since he now knew the truth of her situation he forgave her for refusing his first two proposals. In his mind the pregnancy was the main reason she acted as such, but in her mind it was not.

If she thought about it too deeply she believed it would be in her best interest to say yes. She had been feeling lately that she was going to be staying here in this century permanently. She had been here for months; if God were going to send her back he would have done so by now. If this were true, God removed her from the future world in order for her to live the rest of her life in the past. Maybe she had been a mistake, yet God does not make mistakes. Maybe God meant for her to be born in this time, but she was lost in the shuffle and got placed accidentally in the twenty-first century. Then when God realized this grievous error he quickly popped her back to where she belonged…to the year 1662. That idea seemed bogus.

If it was true and she was meant to be here she could never be a doctor. The feeling of having her dream profession becoming an impossibility was paralyzing. The trauma from being raped and having a baby, these were only hurdles, but staying in this century forever was crushing, like anvil on her heart. Being a doctor was the only thing she ever wanted to do with her life. What else was there left for her here other than marriage?

Chris had been right all along. She had been stupid refusing his proposal. She would have to get married sometime. She could not rely forever on King Louis' good graces to let her live with him; especially since they no longer had a baby on the way. Someday something would happen and she would no longer be welcome at Versailles and then where would she be? No money, no family, no true connections to this world.

Chris had kissed her with so much passion, much more than she had ever expected from him. Rob had been the last guy to kiss her and she had not been relishing the idea of doing it again. She actually found herself enjoying the kiss though.

Whether it was the change in her hormone levels or not, she was beginning to see Chris in a new light. He was such a nice guy and he still loved her through all the embarrassing events and all the lies she told him. She was noticing his very handsome appearance and was finding herself increasingly attracted to him. She was amazed she had not noticed his hotness before. Though he was at least five years or so older she could barely recognize an age gap. She would be a duchesse, have a moderate amount of power. She could use that to help people.

Chris was impetuous at times and had a tendency to fly off the handle, but that could just be a phase of his youth. She could live with that. She again reminded herself, he was a good man and he loved her. Her only objection was that she did not love him. At least she did not think she loved him. She had no deep, burning, passionate feelings for him. Could she learn to love him? He seemed to think so. He was sweet and amusing and incredibly rich. He could take care of her very nicely. Thérèse would be her sister. She would have a family again. She would be loved. Would that be enough?

Thérèse had come to check on her this morning. Her visit was short because her duties kept her busy with the king staying there. Elora did have a chance to explain to her details of everything she had left out the past few weeks. She had wanted to tell her more yesterday, but Chris had been there and there were certain things to be said that only a best friend should hear. Thérèse was not upset with her in the slightest for not telling her these things before and for deceiving her. Her sweet acceptance and benevolent forgiving nature made Elora come so close to telling her that she came from the future. She was sure she could have and Thérèse would certainly be okay with it, but she figured this was not the time or place to be telling her such a great story; especially considering she had only wanted this to be a short visit.

She did not tell her about Chris' proposals either, mainly because she still had not made her decision. Chris obviously had not shared any of it with his family. If she said no again then she was sure Chris would appreciate her discretion. Though girl-talk with her best friend about a probable engagement was highly tempting she had to refrain.

She sent for Chris hoping something in their meeting today would help her to make the right choice. He came in less the three minutes of her sending Suzanne out of the room to find him. She could clearly see he was out of breath. He must have run the whole way. She was thoroughly impressed.

"Elora, I am here. What is your desire?" Chris made a quick bow before stepping towards her to kiss her hand.

Elora giggled. "Oh Chris, don't act so silly. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to take a walk with me."

"I'd be delighted."

They began to walk down the shadowy halls. He complemented her on her choice of dress, her pink taffeta, and also remarked that her colour was returning to her cheeks. Not getting much of a reaction from his adulation, he quickly moved on to telling her about some of the pictures hanging in the hall. She was interested, but had something specific in mind to talk about during this walk.

"Chris, this may seem like a silly discussion, but humor me.–How do you envision the future?"

"Summers at home, winters at court. A happy life together, a handful of children–"

That was a cute reply. He was really planning a life for them. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm talking about the distant future, generations from now. How do you see society and people three or four hundred years from now?"

His mouth dropped open, but no words came out. She was making him uncomfortable, but she knew she had to go at it. He looked at her, maybe looking for an answer, likely hoping she was joking and he would not have to answer. It was an absurd question to be asking a 17th century Frenchman.

"I hardly know. It is difficult to imagine.–I am not certain what to say.–I am not soothsayer."

This would be a good way to continue, she was glad he named such a person. She cleared her throat, nervous about her next words. "I met a soothsayer once; she told me a great deal of what the future will be like and I was convinced. She told me about inventions that allow man to fly, how to get light without a flame, and the creation of weapons with the firepower of five-hundred million muskets in one.–Society will evolve with the technology. Women will step out of the kitchens to join men in the workplace, doing things no man imagined they could do. Women will rise to their full potential as writers, scientists, doctors, chefs, you name it they'll be doing it. Doesn't that sound like a fun world?"

"How ridiculous! Elora, you should pay no mind to soothsayers; they have the devil in them. It sounds as if she was just spinning you a tale."

"What if I should want to do more with my life here, other than being a housewife? Would you approve of my ventures?"

"What sort of ventures?"

"I want to learn about medicine, herbalism, human anatomy, and so on. I want to work, not full time, but at least spend several hours a day caring for the sick."

"Why would you wish to perform such menial tasks? You are nobility and as my wife there would be no room for such behavior."

"_Behavior_, like saving the lives of King Louis and the Duc de Nevers?" She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice, but could not. "So you want me walk two steps behind you everywhere you go? To sit and have refreshments with the ladies, while you men carry on with business? Never doing anything productive, except having babies? Would you have me on the five kids in four years plan? Is a woman nothing more to you but a pretty face to greet you and a means to continue your family line?"

"Where does such opposition come from, Elora? You state such a future being my wife as if it were dreadful. What more is there? Though your knowledge of medicine is useful at times, you know so much already. When you become a duchesse will you really need to know more?"

"Is there really something wrong with that? A woman such as me wanting to further my education; wanting to become an expert at a field such a medicine; wanting to care for people who have no one to help them; wanting to save lives, no matter what their rank."

"You want a great deal." His words were careful. He did not want to say the wrong thing and have her decide not to accept his proposal. She was impressed he was so desperate to keep her.

"I suppose I do, but I'm not afraid to reach for it. In this world doing such things will prove challenging. If I were home in America my desires would not be half as unreachable.–Chris, you haven't really given me an answer, are you okay with this? Will you support me?"

Shaking his head, "We can discuss this after we are married."

"No we can't because after we're married it will be too late. This is something we need to discuss now."

"I do not see how you will find the time to do all these things you want to do."

Well, that was a lame answer. "Probably when I'm not doing all the homey things a wife of this time knows how to do. Like needlework, knitting, drawing, playing instruments. I can't do any of that.–I dance ballet; I never told you that. I run in races, just for fun. Once I outran all of the king's guards.–I've been in school since I was six and stopped abruptly when coming to France. Not that taking a break from pre-med at college isn't nice, but I would like to get back to it. I know being a wife will incur some sacrifices on my part, but I still want to work into my life here all the stuff I've been doing all my life."

They had reached the end of the hall and Chris sat beside her on the cushioned bench in front of a huge picture that hung on the wall. The painting was a portrait of some old relative in a soldier's uniform on a big, black steed. He had the same green eyes as Chris and Thérèse.

She looked into Chris' searching eyes. She could tell he was trying to understand her perspective of things, but could not quite grasp it because he did not know the premise of her futuristic standards.

"I am not sure I can accept such things, Elora. Perhaps you should look to my mother for guidance with what is appropriate for you to do when you are the Duchesse of Chartres."

"I wish you felt differently. King Louis does not have any problem with me being a doc… with me caring for the sick and learning more. If he does not think it inappropriate, then how can you have such qualms?"

Chris had turned his head away from her. She could not tell what he was thinking; only hoping he would not take that the wrong way.

"If you could only think so well of me as you do of him you would be in love with me. If you could only trust me like you do the king."

She tipped her head, trying to see his face. She finally reached for his cheek and he turned to her. His eyes were filled with sorrow. "I trust you," she said with certainty.

He embraced her hand with both of his. "Then tell me everything you have always avoided telling me."

She pulled her hand away from his and began back up the hall. She could hear his booted-step walking behind her.

"Where your family comes from; where their estate was; how it is your entire family save you died; why you arrived here with not a possession, how you became so learned; how it is every modern convenience is unfamiliar to you; why you are so different from every other woman. The king knows these answers, does he not?"

She dropped down her head, looking at the blue Persian carpet as they walked on. Why was the truth so difficult for her to say out loud? "Yes," she finally said after a great pause. "Louis is the only one who knows."

"Yet you will not tell _me_."

"No," she would say if she could. "My parents aren't really dead they just haven't been born yet. That's right I'm from the future. That's why I know so much about things you don't understand and I am unfamiliar with your things because I come from a more advanced society." If she only could say all that to this sweet man who loved her maybe everything would be okay. She stopped walking and looked into Chris' begging eyes.

"Your secrecy is killing me! Please tell me the truth. You say you trust me."

Oh God, she wanted to tell him, but fear flowed through her. He had reacted so poorly to her telling him about a hypothetical future. Since he did not like the idea of women learning and doing stuff out of their role in this time, how could he accept her for who she really was?

She shook her head and said in a resolute tone, "I know my silence is hurting you, but I do not want to lie and I cannot tell you the truth.–You will think I'm either crazy or just think I'm lying with the most wild story I could create to throw you from the truth. This is not about trust. I just do not think you are prepared to hear it. If I told you, everything would change; how you view me and even how you feel about me. You certainly would not want to marry me and if you did I would always be afraid you only did it to honor your proposal. I do not want to lose your friendship.–If you did, on the off chance believe me, you would become part of the secret. It is my burden to bear. And I think that once you knew it you would wish I'd never told you. My secret would become your burden too. I do not want that for you."

"But you burdened the king with it."

Now he certainly sounded jealous, but he did not seem to care.

"Let's leave Louis out of this. We are talking of us, not him."

"If I am to be your husband…you must be honest and tell me everything today."

"You're right." Elora again turned her gaze to the carpet in thought. This was the ultimatum she had foreseen, hence why she had not told him her answer to his proposal yet. She would have to tell him if they married. They could not be partners in their life together with such an immense secret hanging over them.

He did not want her being a doctor. He did not even sound like he wanted her to further her studies. She had been hoping he would support her and suggest he get her a tutor. This would only cause more problems in their marriage because she would go ahead and do stuff without his consent. She did not want to have a relationship like that.

After a half a minute she took a deep breath and met Chris' lime-green eyes. "Chris, I think we both know this can never be. I've tried to reasonably consider marrying you, but my heart just won't let me. I'm sorry."

Elora dashed away from him and he did not follow.

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How did she always do it? She was the only person he had ever met who made him feel deficient. The lecherous king had something in him that he did not. Whatever it was Chris could not imagine. Elora Roux was reaching for the stars if she thought she would be able to hold King Louis within her thrall for long. The choice between her being deceitful or insane was not an encouraging scenario. He was not really sure if he could ever trust her words as truth, especially if her explanation was as bizarre as she was making it appear.

Whatever she was hiding had to have been worse than rape and unwed pregnancy. Perhaps she had killed someone or she was one of the king' emissaries or she was a secret illegitimate daughter of the past king. She could be a blue-blooded princess born on the wrong side of the blanket or she could be a common street whore. Whatever Elora Roux's secret was it had come between them, separating them, withholding her freedom to love him. This made him feel quite infuriated at the fact she had refused him practically for the third time.

Chris' innards began to churn, thinking of who she was likely running to at this moment. King Louis was the only man she held in her confidence and he hated him for it. He had realized what was in her mind, even if she did not recognize her own feelings. Whether she had been truthful about her past-tense condition or not, there was still something in the tone she used when speaking of the king. She seemed like she truly did not see any of King Louis' unappealing attributes. She only saw what she wanted to see. She wanted the king to be her savior.

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Thérèse sat in her chambers weaving the tapestry she had been working on for over a year. Her brother entered, with a low degree of composure. She asked him what was the matter, but he simply stomped around the room for a few minutes without answering. Finally he said, "She has refused my suit!"

"Do you mean Elora Roux?" She did not even look up at him; she was too focused on her stitching. She was not at all surprised at gaining the knowledge of this. She knew Chris was days away from proposing, but also knew Elora was not of a mind to marry.

"Of course, of course. Who else?–The times before when I asked and she said no I always had the feeling somehow I could still persuade her in the end. –Today though was the ultimate humiliation. The subject will never be broached by me again."

She found it interesting, Christophe had implied he had made such matrimonial offers to Elora before today. Elora had never told her, not even when she visited with her this morning. She supposed it was because it was a very private matter and since it concerned her brother, she could hardly be looked on to offer unbiased advice.

"Perhaps such a match was not meant to be then. You should reconcile yourself to move past this, Brother.–I love you and want to see you happy."

"What if I said Elora is the only one who can make me happy."

She stopped at her work for a moment to better focus on her brother. "Then you should prepare your soul for a very unhappy lifetime you are setting up for yourself." She shook her head. "I feel I know Elora just as well as you do. We both know she has an independent spirit. She never pretends and always says her true opinions and thoughts. If she is this decisive to refuse your persistent proposals of marriage she must not want it."

"You are my sister!" He came and knelt by her chair, taking her hands tightly in his. "Does she mean more to you than me, your brother?" She could hardly keep from rolling her eyes. She would not answer such a childish question. "Since," he lowered his voice, realizing his clamorous behavior would not motivate her, "you and she are so close perhaps you could speak to her on my behalf."

She pulled her hands free from him, never finding him so pathetic. She could hardly believe he was making such demands as this. What had Elora said to him, other than no, to make him act so wild?

"Speak to her and try to convince her to do something she does not want? I would never abuse our friendship in that manner, Christophe."

"I thought you wanted this also?" he huffed.

She gently brushed her fingers through his dark hair. "I would love for Elora to become my sister, but I cannot be selfish. Are you forgetting what that poor girl has suffered through? After all the terrible things which occurred out of her control I think it only just to let her make her own decisions concerning her life without the pressure or intimidation of anyone, especially her friends."

He began to pace furiously about the room again. She could think of nothing to calm him. The last time she saw him so discomposed was when he took her so suddenly from Versailles, a fortnight ago. She had not understood his agitation then and he would not answer any of her questions as he practically dragged her by the wrist to the carriage. Now she understood, Elora must have disappointed him then too.

"Do you know the main reason she resists me? It is that secret of hers.–Has she ever mentioned anything about that to you?"

"Christophe, please do not put me in this position. If I told you anything she said to me in confidence I would be betraying her trust.–I do not need to know the dark things in her past or whatever it is she does not feel comfortable sharing. I like her as she is."

"That is exactly it. She said if we knew we would never look at her the same way again. It is so extreme she believes we would not even wish to associate with her from then on. She almost speaks as if she is part of a conspiracy. Are you not curious at all?"

"Perhaps a little," she confessed, "but I will leave it to Elora to tell me when she is ready. Did you ever think in some way she is trying to protect us. Perhaps the truth of it would make us unhappy or even devastate us."

As he was getting into telling Thérèse all the particulars of his experience with Elora their mother walked in the room. She still had the tapestry on her lap so she could do nothing but smile as she approached them. Christophe hurried to stand to greet her.

"Oh children, I am so glad to find you both together, now I do not have to send a servant in search of you, Christophe. The king would like us all to join him in his game of lawn bowling at two this afternoon. When I walked in you seemed engrossed in a conversation and suddenly silenced when aware of my presence. Are you speaking of something I would disapprove of?" Her arms crossed in such a way as to imply she wanted straightforward answers from them.

"No Mother," said Thérèse, "we were only speaking of–" She looked into Christophe's warning eyes. "The Marquis de Sévigné."

"He is a gentleman I would speak with you about later, Thérèse. The king will be leaving with the remaining courtiers tomorrow morning. Which means there is only today left in his visit; let us try to make it a glorious night for him. He would have been gone a week ago had his mistress not fallen ill."

"She is not his mistress!" Both children said at once in correction to her phrasing.

Their mother's look was that of disbelief. Christophe sighed, obviously hating the need to defend the girl whom he detested at that moment. "Two weeks ago she claimed they never had such relations. Four days ago she claimed the affair had been going on for three months. Yesterday she returned back to her original statement that she was never his mistress. Today I do not know what to believe."

"Well, I do," insisted Thérèse. "I spoke with Elora this morning. We talked at length about many things that had not been clear to me before today. She may have been sleeping in his bed, but the king has never touched her. I have had her word on it.–She would never flatly lie to me. I know it to be truth."

"If you say so.–I still cannot understand why you gave her your bedchamber, Christophe.–Who is she in any case? The king told me her family lineage himself and I have never heard of the Roux family before. I would not be surprised if Valréas was not her true entitlement. Do you hear that accent as well? Not a drop French, I dare say. A noble French family would never just pack up their belongings and travel across the known world to live in an English Colony."

Christophe appeared glad to have someone interested in prying as much as he. Their mother was feeding right into his tantrum. "She told me," he began with a scowl, "the king is the only one who knows the truth about her and she intends for it to stay that way. If it is not a love affair, what purpose would the king have in making up such an intricate fabrication for her, Mother?"

Now Thérèse could not help but express her anger with her family. They should not be discussing such slanderous things. Elora Roux was her friend. Mother insisted there was no harm, they were only discussing such things in the private confines their rooms. They were not doing anything of a vindictive or malicious nature.

"Whatever it is, children, the king has been very careful to secure this girl's identity as a comtesse." Her mother walked to the mirror about the fireplace to properly adjust every loose strand of hair atop her head just so. "It is very easy for kings to forge documents and no one can prove him of wrongdoing. Perhaps he was saving her from something or someone, but if that was true where could he have met her? I think Elora Roux will always be a mystery.–How is it you know so much about her, Christophe. I thought you said you did not have an intimate acquaintance with her."

She was so frustrated with Christophe. He needed to stop lying to his mother. Was he so worried about her approval? She knew very well he would rather make up fabrications then to disappoint his mother. His humiliation from Elora's rejection was the obvious cause of such secrecy. Thérèse continued with her work, so her mother could not look to her face for an answer. This was Christophe's battle.

"I do not really know her at all.–Excuse me, Mother. I must see to a matter the steward spoke with me about." He left the room quickly, just as agitated as he had entered.

"So Thérèse, now that your brother is gone from the room tell me what his relationship is with that girl. I would like an honest answer from you."

"Elora is a good person. Her conversation is stimulating and the feelings she expresses are always heartfelt. She never tells me much about her past; a few times she mentioned different memories, but nothing concrete. From what she has said she certainly comes from a new world."

"What you mean, my dear?"

"When she speaks to people whether king, duc, or gardener she has the same demeanor. As if caste means nothing to her; she is neither in awe of greatness nor condescending to the common. She speaks like a man, with substance and depth. Her manners are relaxed and natural, bordering on nonconformist. It is like she feels absolutely no need to do anything to impress people."

"This is all interesting, Thérèse, but you never answered my first question. What is her relationship with your brother?"

She sighed, hoping to avoid this conversation. Christophe should be speaking to her of this, not she. "He is in love with her. Since I befriended her we have all associated together daily. He has confessed his love for her many times. Unfortunately for Christophe, she does not share his feelings in the least. Today she has rejected his proposal of marriage. I have never seen him so miserable. I wish she could love him. She told me once she would not consider getting married until she was at least twenty-five years old. I thought she was joking up until today."

"Her ideals and decisions seem rooted in ignorance. Though I do not approve of such a match, whether she loves Christophe or not, it should have been her duty to accept such an honorable proposal immediately."

"If you knew her as I do, if you spoke with her you would see she is brilliant. Everything she says makes sense in the end. I trust her reasons for refusing are honorable."

"I cannot imagine anything making sense in her situation except in accepting his proposal."

"It is as if marriage is not a priority, but something to be done later. As if she is waiting for life to take her in a different direction. Like the way she cared for the king while he lied ill this spring. She saved the Duc de Nevers' life too. That was miraculous. She mentioned once she had a talent for caring for the sick."

"Perhaps God has called her towards a vocation in the Holy Mother Church."

"Elora, become a nun? I doubt that as well."

"I will have to go speak with this girl. My interest is piqued."

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Just when Elora thought she could take an afternoon nap someone knocked at the door. She was dreading it would be Chris. There was nothing left to say to him, but he was a glutton for punishment. It was the Douairiere Duchesse who entered the room, with all the grace her rank allowed. She was the one person she never expected to see. Maybe Chris had gone running to mommy about her refusal. If so this was not going to be a very good visit. Elora stood from the bed and offered the Duchesse a seat by the window, which she took immediately.

The lady wore a stunning red dress that was very low-cut. She not only looked like she was still in her twenties, she dressed like it as well. She did not look like a mom, especially not to two grown kids like Chris and Thérèse. The Duchesse was polite, as a hostess should be, inquiring after her guest's health, but something had certainly changed in her manner. It was the same way as Colbert presented himself, an air of disapproval. Disapproval of what exactly she was not sure; there was so much to choose from.

Elora gave an equally generous reply that she was feeling better and also apologized for ruining the ball. "I must have danced too many dances the other night to be so overexerted as I was."

"It is all forgotten. As long you get well, that is all that matters." She was just waiting for the Duchesse to lower the boom. She knew it was coming. "There is nothing that arises in my house I do not know about, including the details of your condition.–I have spoken with my children and I am now concerned about a great deal. There is much I need to know from you. I expect the truth," she said, cold as ice.

"Your grace, I cannot promise you answers. I barely know you."

"Tell me if that was my son's bastard you carried."

Her piercing eyes were searching for an answer that Elora hesitated to give. Her tone and the way she said _bastard_ made her feel uncomfortable. Elora seriously considered not telling her anything, but then she remembered she was not merely Chris' mom. Thérèse was such a good friend and if she made enemies with her mother then she would certainly never be allowed to talk to her again.

"No, the baby was not Chris'. It was not the king's either; if that was your next question. It was the result of a lurid night, happening far away from France."

The Duchesse was visibly relieved, but her emotions ended there. She could spare no concern for her, but was singularly glad for her son's escape from being required to marry such a girl as she. Elora was beginning to become annoyed with this lady. She had to keep reminding herself she was a guest in her house and she was her elder and Louis would be disappointed to hear she was rude, all good reasons to bite her tongue.

"I have just been informed by my daughter this very day that you have become very intimate with both of my children over these past months. I honestly did not know how close you all had become until now and I am not entirely pleased. You are in the position as the king's mistress and have no chaperone to watch you. I fear you are not leading a good example for my Thérèse; I fear your influence on her. Thérèse shares things with me, but months ago Christophe asked her not mention you in her letters to me. After hearing some rather shocking things from my son she finally offered details of your friendship when I demanded it. I do not wish to interfere in my children's lives and make them unhappy, yet now I must. Thérèse says Christophe is in love with you. I have seen the depths of his passion myself at the ball and since.–Has my son promised himself to you?"

The Duchesse's words had been to the point and she now saw where this was leading. Thérèse's mother did not like her. She was glad she was not engaged to Chris or his mother would likely squish her like a bug this minute. "Isn't this something you should be asking Chris? Why didn't he tell you himself? What exactly has he been saying to you, your grace?"

"His pride and honor causes him to keep a great deal from me; more so since his father died. What he said about you were angry words from someone in love. From what he would tell me I could not gather anything specific about your relationship.–How many generations has your family had your title?"

"A few." She shifted in the chair. She did not like lying. "I thought I heard the king explaining my family's history to you the night of the ball. Why are you asking me this now?"

"Because I fear my son has behaved stupidly and let his passions overthrow his good judgment where you are concerned. You are not a comtesse and you certainly are not French. You are undeserving of the Duc de Chartres."

Who was she to tell her that! In her anger she got up and walked across the room to the other window. She could not bear to look at the duchess nor be within ten feet of her. "I know that. I told him so the first time he proposed. He is a great man with a great title and great connections. As many have reminded me, I am a penniless ward of the king and severely lacking in connections.–Your grace, I never meant to disrupt this delicate caste balance the French feel is so important. The king introduced me as the Comtesse de Valréas, which is who I am. I will not speak of my family, mainly because my heart still breaks to even think of them. I assure you they were good, decent people.–I have had no expectations from anyone, especially your son. His confession of love took me by surprise and I never sought it. You will be thrilled to hear I am not engaged to Chris.

"I want you to understand, my decision should be no slight against your family or your son. Chris would have been an advantageous match for me, but at this time in my life I lack the burning desire to marry. And most importantly, I don't think I could ever love Chris as he loves me…and I will marry for no reason less than love. He is a good man, but he's not for me. If we married it would be unfair to him. His love would soon fade when he realized I could never love him the way he wanted me to. He would be unhappy and I want him to have complete happiness in his life. He should have no difficulty finding a wife who does love him. When he meets the right girl he will be glad I refused him."

The great lady's smile comforted her. She had been quite unsure whether she would think her insolent.

"You are very wise to say so, my dear."

"Oh I have to tell you, now that we're done talking about that. Though it does not appear so, I am completely French on both sides of my family. I know my situation and character must look awful to you right now, but I swear it's not as bad as you think. It's just been a rough couple of months. Please do not worry about Thérèse and I. She is my sturdy guidepost, she never falters to do the right thing." She tried to conceal a yawn.

"I will leave you now to rest, Comtesse. Thank you for this rather enlightening conversation."

Elora thanked her again as she left the room. Moments later she scrunched down into the bed and fell asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Madame Lellouche had given her consent for the Comtesse de Valréas to travel. They would be able to return to Versailles, but the midwife insisted the journey not be hurried. Louis was in no mind to disagree with her recommendations. His was set on making Elora's ride a comfortable one.

The king had delighted in the extravagances provided by Chartres, during his extended stay, more than he thought he would under the grievous circumstances. He was pleased to be leaving, for he missed his Versailles.

He had not spoken with Elora for many days now. Courtiers were beginning to think she had lost favor in his eyes, though that was not the case. She simply needed some time to cool her temper. If he had gone to visit they would just argue again about the same things and he did not particularly want to be assaulted by her twice in one week. He did summon her maidservant daily to give a detailed account on her state of health, but Elora was never to find that out.

On the very day he had the conversation with Elora Roux about her desire to move to England, Colbert requested an audience with him. When he told him of his decision to stay on at Chartres for several more days Colbert was very discontented. Of course, there was only one reason he chose to impose upon the Duc's hospitality and that was his concern for Elora Roux. He did not have to voice this aloud to Colbert; he of all people knew how he favored her. He did not want to leave Elora alone in this house, knowing her history with the Duc de Chartres. He also did not trust leaving her out of his sight. She had the idea to runaway to filthy England still in her head. He had a responsibility to her and if anything happened because he was not there to smooth it over he would never forgive himself. Colbert of course protested to his decision to stay on at Chartres for a week, but Louis would not be heeded.

When Elora joined the party for breakfast this morning she was very upset about something, but she refused to tell him about it. It must have happened since he had last seen her and he suspected to know the cause. The gracious duc, their host, must have been the culprit. All through the meal Elora had rattled on about leaving France; all while avoiding even a glance in the Duc de Chartres' direction.

She needed to calm herself and he would help her do it. He surreptitiously slipped Elora a light sleeping draught in her drink minutes before they left the Chartres' mansion. She managed to step into the carriage with her maidservant's assistance. Seconds later she fell into a peaceful sleep against his shoulder. She was such a darling girl, he thought to himself, unable to stop a smile from shaping.

"Majesty, shall I move her off you?" asked the servant.

"The lady is fine where she is."

"Yes, Majesty, of course."

Chartres approached the king's carriage. Louis observed the fire of jealousy come over him as he beheld the sleeping girl against his shoulder. It is no wonder Elora wanted to leave France. She was escaping Christophe Morlaix!

"I do not yet know the particulars of what has carried on between you two these past days, though I have an idea." Louis kept his voice subdued, for his words were meant for his ears alone. "When you return to Versailles you had better play nice with Elora or you will find yourself quickly banished from my court."

Chartres made no reply, but nodded with a scowl. The Duchesse and her daughter quickly came forward, bidding them safe journey home.

During the long ride home to Versailles King Louis pondered over what had happened within the last week, searching his conscious. After Elora had the miscarriage she was so pale and so weak. It bothered him that he might have lost her. There was always a constant, irksome feeling at the back of his mind that he had to protect her. He found it most inconvenient that he cared.

He was beginning to esteem the fairer sex as a whole, not just she. His regard for women had never been one of high distinction, one slightly superior to a servant. He had known many women, but never quite knew them or desired to understand them. He was heartily ashamed of his treatment of women. Looking back, he could think of dozens of circumstances where he flaunted his complete disregard for a woman's dignity and honor. If it had been Elora who he had treated thus she would have given him an earful to be sure. Elora put life in a whole new direction for him, even if she had not realized it.

There was no lady like her. Being from the future she knew so much about things he never imagined. She was experienced and knowledgeable in so much and yet at the same time naïve in a great deal. Considering all her intelligence she was still very innocent and lacking in experience with life. Now she was fixated with leaving him for England. He would not let her go. The real world was too dangerous for her.

They stopped for the night at the same lodging they had retired at on their journey to Chartres. Elora began to stir when the bustling sounds from the inn were heard and the carriage came to a bumping halt. "Mom?" she mumbled she rubbed her eyes.

"No, Elora, it is the king. This is the second time you have confused me with your mother. Are our voices similar?"

She sat up straight and opened her eyes. The carriage was dark, yet he could still make out her sweet face between the shadows, for little bit of light shone in from outside the windows, coming from the inn.

"Won't this nightmare ever end?" Elora sighed, once again starting a conversation in English as they prepared to exit the carriage. She had been speaking her tongue very often of late.

"It is not so terrible here."

"Yeah, well you have nothing to compare it to."

He stepped out of the carriage and helped Elora out, taking her delicate hand as she stretched it out of the dark carriage. "True, but you cannot say that anything here has badly affected you."

Her entire body came into the light. Her hairstyle had tilted a bit and a mass of red curls hung from the left side of her head, but of course she did not notice or if she did she did not care enough to fix it.

"Well you try finding out you've been raped and your pregnant and you had a miscarriage all within a month and then tell me how you feel."

Louis was at a loss for words. He would never get used to her blunt comments. What a woman she was! If she were a princess with a dowry he would marry her himself without hesitation. But would she have him? Perhaps not. She would likely come up with some absurd reason to refuse him. She had to be the choosiest woman he had ever been acquainted with.

When Louis and she entered the inn, trailing after the servant to get to the bedroom. Elora stopped suddenly halfway up the staircase. She spoke into his ears alone that it was no longer necessary for them to share a room. And since their party was not crowded with so many courtiers, she would like to have her own room.

He understood her point, yet he still wished to continue sleeping beside her. Since she was partially angry with him and partially angry at the world at present, he agreed without hesitation. So with a simple request the servant escorted Elora to the neighboring bedchamber.

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They got back to Versailles that next evening. Elora was a little less than happy to be back. At least it was better than remaining at Chartres Castle. She was glad of the solitude she was able to have at Versailles.

Louis was again consumed in affairs of state and she only saw him in the evenings. Since she lost the baby he lost the drive to consort with her at every spare moment he had, whether he meant to or not. Though he was still the considerate friend he had always been, now that there was no longer a baby on the way she assumed Louis would in some way make known she was dismissed from the status of mistress, but he did not. She was still beside him at dinner and danced the first with him every evening there was dancing.

The king liked his dances, but she lacked the strength or the spirit to dance more than one or two. She used her weakness as an excuse to escape as many social duties as possible, frustrating Louis to no end. It was not that she minded his company, but he just wanted to pick things up from where they had been before the Chartres' ball. She could not disregard the past couple of weeks as well as he could. She had changed so much in that brief time she did not know how to cope with all of these changes. Just having been pregnant was enough to alter every aspect of her life. She had begun to think and see the world differently while she had that little baby inside her. She had made decisions about her future in order to accommodate her child. Now he was gone, ripped tragically from her womb, she could go back to her original plan, but now she was not sure she wanted to do those things anymore.

At least ten times every day she contemplated the likely permanence of her situation in this century and how she could make a life that she wanted for herself here. Chris' offer to marry had brought her mind to a new place. She had always told herself she would never consider marriage until she was settled out of medical school. In the 21st century that was a fine intent, but living here had made her reconsider her life's priorities. Now she was not sure she would wait so long to marry, if the right man came along. She understood now, choosing when to fall in love was not something she could plan ahead for.

After only two days peaceful solitude turned into severe boredom as she began to gain strength and feel well again. She had nothing to do but think. Missing her family, remembering all the disgusting things about Rob, the pregnancy, the miscarriage, losing Chris as a friend, everyone thinking terrible things about her because they thought she was the king's mistress. She had nothing left. Her memories and her present situation plagued her existence.

Thérèse had sent a letter saying that her journey back to Versailles was delayed for a few more days. Elora did not even have a best friend there to complain to. She no longer felt comfortable attending the garden parties or the evening dancing without Thérèse there. She could not have any fun unless her friends were there with her.

She was felt so trapped within the walls of Versailles. If she were meant to be here, there had to be more to the seventeenth century world in her scope than Versailles. Louis would not let her leave; no matter how much she begged. Going to England had been a silly dream. She knew now how ridiculous she must have sounded. She still needed to get at least one day of total freedom, but she would have to be sneaky to accomplish her intent.

There were guards at every turn. She walked around the perimeters of the grounds for a couple of days, scouting out where would be the best way to exit. The only gate that people traveled back and forth frequently was the servant's entrance. It was for the use of the chateau servants and the private servants of the courtiers. She could get in and out easily. The only hindrance was her attire. She looked through her wardrobe viewing her fancy gowns and her clothes from the future. Not even a blind man would believe she was a servant dressed in silks and satins.

There was only one person who could help her. She went to Suzanne as she was turning down her bed in the evening. She sat down with her and explained her desperate need to have one afternoon away from the chateau. Suzanne expressed a concern that Elora might runaway for good.

"In all honesty I'd like to leave forever. If what I see there suits me I just might. I have some money from my winnings at cards to sustain me for a little while. I could start a new life somewhere. Somewhere else I wouldn't have to be a comtesse. I could just be me.–But for tomorrow I will just take a walk in the city and return.–So will you help me?"

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Suzanne had told her the best time to get out was midmorning because there was the most traffic going in and out, thus she it was unlikely she would be noticed in the crowd. Dressing herself in Suzanne's tawny cotton gown with a white collar, sleeves and apron, she prepared for her chancy undertaking. For an additional attempt to appear common she put her hair up and wrapped her head with a bandana.

She walked out into the halls to get out to the gardens. She passed by many courtiers she knew; silently praying none would look at her long enough to recognize her. The gate slowly came into view, but there was something wrong, no one was going through. In fact there were no servants in sight. She could not understand this; Suzanne had assured her it would be busy now. She stopped walking for a few seconds, deliberating whether she should still chance going through. There were two guards there after all.

She took a deep breath and continued on the chosen path. The guards did not even look up at her as she drew closer. No sooner did she slip between them and through the gate when she heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Elora Roux, where are you intending to go?" spoke King Louis, stepping away from the vine-covered pillar beside the gate.

"Damn you!" She yelled, stamping her foot down on the cobblestones. "How did you know I would be here?"

"I have my ways, which I do not need to explain to you," he replied in English. He began to lead the reluctant girl back to the chateau. "I ask you to recall the first day we met. It was then I allowed you stay at my court as long as you followed certain rules."

Elora agreed she remembered, but wished he had forgotten.

"I instructed that you were to stay within the chateau grounds. This was not a rule that I decided on lightly. I regarded your safety and considering your futuristic past you could do a great deal of damage.–Now tell me why you secretly attempted to leave my grounds?"

"I wasn't escaping if that's what you think. I just want to see the city and browse through the shops there. I want to be alone and free, for once."

He raised his eyebrow to her in doubt. "Damn," Elora pushed him, as she walked furiously back through the gates herself. "Why do you make everything so difficult? You never let me do what I want! You're as bad as a parent. Can't you just trust me?"

"Elora, trust is not the matter at hand. You cannot leave. It is not safe for you in France or anyplace else for that matter."

Every courtier within a hundred feet had noticed the king following after her. She could see the frustration in his eyes. Was he just as nauseated at the lack of privacy here as she? He led her past the Water Parterre into the King's Garden, where it would be only them.

"So I can only be safe to live my life if I am with you?"

"No.–I mean, yes!–How can I be the only one to see this situation with reason? God placed you in my hands. Neither of us has the right to go against His will. You must trust me when I say I am the only one to protect you and I cannot protect you if you are in another country or even in another city for that matter."

She noticed that was his answer for everything; the perfect excuse to make her his slave. "But I must get away!" She held back tears that desperately wanted to escape.

He turned to face her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Elora, please put a stop to all of this. Running away is not an answer. Stop trying to get away. Grieve, damn it! It is your right. No soul would think less of you for it. I surely would not." He began to shout, "You had a miscarriage, Elora! The child in your womb that you had begun to love was lost. You must feel something, some sorrow!"

She stepped back from his grasp. How could he say such things to her? "No, I cannot do this." She shook her head, covering her ears with her hands.

He pulled her hands down to her side. He puleed "You must, Elora. Shed a tear at the very least."

Elora turned her head to look him straight in the eye. "I cannot shed a tear Louis and I am ashamed of it. I may have felt a little sorrow at first, but…but mostly…I was glad. Now you know. I was glad that I lost the baby. That child born from rape would have _ruined_ my life, whether I stayed here or returned to the future. Now I'm overshadowed by an inescapable guilt that I can't outrun. How can God forgive me for being happy I lost my child? I have been in constant prayer, hoping that He will someday forgive me, for I will never forgive myself."

He went to take her in his arms. "Please Louis," she pushed him away, "please do not feel sorry for me. I don't deserve pity."

"Life must go on, Elora. You must give yourself time; the pain will ease. You cannot simply run away from your problems."

"I know that. I thought my life was over when I got pregnant, but then you gave me hope. Now that the baby's gone I feel even more lost than before.–I suppose it was foolish to want to go to England. I just wanted a day of freedom to spend to myself. I needed to walk through some unfamiliar place where the people I passed did not recognize me or even care who I was. I don't quite understand why.–You do know just because you stopped me today does not mean I will not try again tomorrow. You can't stop me. Give me tomorrow. I'll go, discreetly tour the city, and return a couple of hours later. No risky behavior. Please, Louis."

He made no answer, though he was definitely thinking about it. "Take your servant with you," came from his lips.

"No, all or nothing, Louis. I need a day to myself. Give me your permission or my defiance will hurt, for I will stoop to just about anything to get out of here."

"You may go, but please keep in mind I am trusting you."

Dark clouds had begun to creep in as they talked in the garden and now the rain began to pour down. They both linked hands and began to run back into the chateau. It was a distance they had to go to get to the chateau, by the time they go indoors they were both pretty wet. Louis' puffed hair was now flat and her dress was almost see-through, as it clung to her body.

As Elora looked outside at the rain she could see through the corner of her eye his gaze was on her. With what appeared to be a hesitant hand he reached out to her, sliding the wet kerchief from her head. She wordlessly turned to him with a perplexed brow.

After taking off her kerchief, his hand dropped onto her shoulder, slowly pulling her close to him. She could not decipher what Louis could be thinking. At first she believed he wanted to hug her, then his head dipped down toward hers, giving her the sensation he wanted to kiss her. Assuming he was only to give her a peck on the cheek, she did not pull away. The kiss was soft and brief on her right cheek, as she had expected.

But then he must have gotten in his mind to go from kissing her on the cheek to kissing her on the lips; for when his lips were only a breath from hers she turned her head away. She had to. This was neither the time nor place for such intimacies. He should have known such a gesture would not be welcome at that moment.

Louis was trying to take advantage of the situation. He knew she was distressed from their conversation only moments ago. When she just explained some pretty hefty emotional burdens that were weighing on her, how could he think that now was the moment to become romantic?

She shook her head and took the time to look over her shoulder to see if anyone was around. Louis must have realized he had misread the moment and stepped away from her looking embarrassed. They parted quickly and without another word; each going back to their chambers to put on fresh clothes.

Louis' talk with her really calmed her nerves. She really did not want to leave Versailles and even more so did not want to leave Louis. Elora was disappointed not being able to go out into the city, but soon forgot about it when Suzanne admitted Madame Desiree to her chambers.

She said the king had commanded that the Comtesse de Valréas should have more than a ten-gown wardrobe. She was to have a wardrobe fit for a princess. Madame Desiree began taking measurements of Elora's figure. She knew this was another of Louis' unnecessary generosities, but she said nothing and let the couturière continue measuring her figure.

Louis should have been stopping such indulgences. Him paying for all these dresses was going to be seen as him continuing his relationship with her. She should have followed her original instincts not to let him help her out. If they had never begun the romantic farce they would not be in this sticky in-between now. At this point she did not care what reasons he had for going forward with it. It was not like he was hindering her love life because that was non-existent. So what did it matter. It was actually a good thing because she got to hang out with Louis more often and being his mistress it was expected. Her reputation was already ruined; she was no longer seen as a virginal maid. At least she would get some new clothes out of it.

Madame Desiree expressed her relief that Elora's measurements had not changed greatly. Elora was fitted with at least twenty more gowns that were ready for her to keep that day and there were just as many the couturière had yet to make, which would be ready for her within a fortnight. The rolls of fabric that she chose from were grand. There were vivid silks with metallic threads and beautifully embroidered satins. She had only ever seen such nice things on the very rich courtiers, like the Morlaix family.

It was actually a good idea she was getting more dresses because the weather would be getting cool and soon after it would be winter, so many of her new dresses were in thicker fabrics, more layers, and long sleeves. All in all, Elora thought it was a very satisfying day, kind of like going on a shopping binge at the mall.

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Cesaire dressed himself accordingly so he might stand out in the rain to welcome his highness, Prince Philippe in his return to Versailles. His journey to Italy had lasted nearly three months including travel time. He joined the rest of the court standing under a canopy. It was at this time he was missing the Morlaix's very much, especially his Lady Thérèse.

He wanted to have Thérèse as his, but at the same time he did not like the idea of settling so soon. He could not say what was restraining him. He knew if he chose her to be his wife she would do her duty nicely and he would be well pleased with her his whole life. She was the daughter and brother of ducs. He family and dowry was enough to recommend her. She was nearly ten years his junior, but accomplished enough to be a woman prepared for marriage. He had wanted to speak with Christophe while he was at Chartres, but he was never in good spirits whenever he was about to approach him on the matter.

He looked toward where the king stood, hoping to catch sight of Elora beside him, but she was not there. He had hardly seen her since the ball. With her being the king's mistress he was easily able to join the company of His Majesty, which kept him in good standing at court. He had never expected to befriend Elora Roux so well as he had. She was an animated and alluring woman. If he were not already I love with Thérèse, Christophe would have had some healthy competition trying to win her. His Thérèse and she had become the truest of friends and he was glad for her.

The prince arrived just as the rain began to peter out. He was dressed in his regal robes and was all smiles. He had grown slightly darker from all that Italian sun. He wondered what sort of treaty the prince was about to arrange. Though Philippe was more of a scatterbrain, when he was sent on royal duty for the French crown by his brother he always managed to get exactly what he needed completed.

Just before dinner he saw Elora come into the hall and she could not be missed. She was utterly ravishing this evening, regally dressed in a fetching new gown. It was a vibrant purple lamé silk, woven with gold threads. The gown was pulled back with heavy pins of amethyst and diamonds. The underskirt was gold silk with a lush lavender-coloured, flower brocade. All along the flower design were diamonds. The collar went off the shoulders and the sleeves were composed of intricate, ruffled lace, which was the popular style.

The gown suited her figure well, showing off her alabaster shoulders and swelling breasts. Tonight she was wearing a corset, which was not an under-garment she usually donned. She had mentioned once or twice in passing that she disliked how she felt in them and really saw no need to wear one. If she only knew how much more lovely it made her figure appear.

No doubt this new gown was a gift from the king. She was obviously highly favored by His Majesty. He knew she had become the king's mistress, yet since they returned to court things seemed different between them. There was no hint of romantic affection when they were together. All they ever did in the public's eyes was talk and laugh, many instances in English. They appeared more like comrades than lovers, yet he still showered her with gifts as if she were a queen.

Cesaire went directly to her, hoping they might catch up this evening. All the other nights she had slipped in just before mealtime and slipped out after the first dance. Her smile was enough to let him know she was glad to see him. She immediately asked him to sit next to her at dinner, which he was wholly expecting and happy to oblige. Through dinner they minced words of this and that. The king took up the minutes before the meal was served talking with Elora, excessively proud of her new attire. He kissed her hand and Cesaire saw her cheeks blush slightly, which was a reaction he had not ever seen from Elora. What had changed between the king and she? Perhaps it had taken him this long to finally conquer her, yet it had been assumed he had deflowered her some time ago.

As they ate the king became consumed with his brother beside him, giving him a better opportunity to converse with Elora. Cesaire's first question for her was not about his ladylove, Thérèse, but rather what had happened the night of the Morlaix's ball. She was about to speak, when she must have recalled something horrific and she shuttered. It took her a moment to recover from whatever it was she had thought of. When she finally spoke, it was with hesitation. She carefully said she had overexerted herself at the ball and become ill with a slight fever. He knew she was lying.

He had woken up early with Christophe one morning months ago to peek through the bushes to watch her run all around the king's garden. She looked as if she were doing it as a form of exercise. She ran for what seemed like hours before stopping for a rest. They did not know what to make of it. Christophe liked to go there often to watch her form as she ran. There was no way she could become overexerted from a few dances, considering how athletic she was. Something else had happened. No one was telling him anything either, not Christophe or Thérèse.

After Elora danced the first with the king, she was free to dance the next with him. Her light step would bring pleasure to any partner, especially him. The minuet began to play and then took their places on the dance floor. As the dance ended they went to the beverage table for cherry cordial.

"Chris and Thérèse are probably going to arrive back here in a few days. I had a letter from Thérèse saying so."

"Yes, I had a letter from Christophe telling me the same," said Cesaire.

"It will be nice to have the whole gang back together again."

"I don't think it is going to be the same as…" he paused. "What I mean to say is…you see…the last letter I received from him, even though he did not tell me the particulars, I believe he is angry with you." She swirled the cordial around in her glass, not looking up at him.

"Do you know why he is upset with me?"

"Certainly. I have always known, since the first time he offered his suit to you."

"It seems all I've done is hurt him lately. He will never forgive me for this and I don't blame him.–You're right, the gang will never be the same again. I wish he hadn't fallen in love with me."

"We all believed you reciprocated his feelings; even Thérèse thought you were sweet on him."

She shook her head. "No. I never loved him. I didn't mean to give off that impression. Perhaps it's because I grew up with two brothers. You all see the world so differently here. A boy and a girl cannot just be friends…it has to be something more."

"The matter at hand is," said Christophe Morlaix, walking right up to them out of nowhere. When did he get back and how much did he hear? Chartres stood only inches away from her with menacing stance. His eyes looked tired and his voice was bitter. "You have been too cavalier with men, Comtesse. You are no longer a child. It is time to begin acting like a lady. A lady does not hurt the gentleman that loves her. A lady does not refuse a respectable marriage proposal. You should strive be a Comtesse your parents would be proud of."

Elora stepped away him with a stamp of her foot. "My…parents…" Chartres had obviously hit a nerve, most likely with intent. She stuttered, trying to force herself to continue, as tear rolled down her cheek. "If my mother and father were here I am sure nothing I have done would shame them.–And if being a lady means I should marry a man only for his money, knowing he would make me miserable for the rest of my life, then I never want to be a lady of your description!"

She turned and ran away out of the alcove. Christophe was about to sprint after her, but Cesaire held him back.

"What are you doing? Let me go! I must go after her!"

"No, Chartres, you mustn't.–She is correct. You must move on. She's made her peace. Stop trying to hurt her. It will not make your pain go away."

Thérèse entered the alcove and embraced her brother. She had not heard what had happened, but she knew what must have gone on.

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Elora could not believe her connection to Chris Morlaix was now almost nonexistent. How could all of this have happened? She could have been friends with Chris for life, but he had to go and mess everything up by falling in love with her. How could he say such mean things to her about her parents? She saw a flash of their faces; Mom with her kind smile and knowledgeable eyes and Dad with his raised brow and graying mustache.

She ran away from him across the dance floor she was pulled to a halt by someone's hand taking hold of her wrist. She whipped around to see who it was, about to punch Chris right in the nose if it were he.

"Louis!" She hugged him in a tight embrace. "I want to go home. There's no place for me here."

Louis pulled her loose from him, for they were very much in public. "Shhh…Elora, stop this crying." He dried her cheeks with his silk handkerchief. "Did Chartres say something to you? I saw him enter and charge straight for you."

"It's not him; it's all me. I thought I could have friends here just like I did back home. I was seriously wrong. Women are just a marriage prospect to men here.–There is nothing for me here."

"You are wrong. There is one thing for you here…me. And I will always be here when you need me. I must have you by my side forever.–Dance with me now."

"All right." So they began to dance. "You are the only one who understands me.–Chris still wants me…I can't change that. Louis, if I'm making a mistake refusing him, tell me. If you think I'll be happy with him then I will be. If you think I should marry him then I will. Tell me."

"He is not the right man for you, Elora. You seem to know your own mind quite well and I believe your judgment of the situation is clear. You should not marry him."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you, Louis."

The dance ended and the king called it a night, exiting the room with her arm tucked around his. He merely walked her to her bedchamber door and bid her goodnight.

**Dear Readers, **

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 18 of The Celestial City. This is one of my favorite chapters. I'm sure you noticed that since things have come to a screeching halt with Elora and Christophe, things are beginning to escalate with Elora and Louis. All I can say is "Yay!" Chapter 19 is going to blow your socks off! **

**I really appreciate feedback, so please leave me a review to let me know what you think! **

**L.B. Tempia**


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

While eating his breakfast the next morning, Louis could only think of Elora Roux. Vain attempts were made on his part to ignore the events of the night earlier, but his thoughts returned to it again and again. Their brief conversation, as they danced the chaconne with the violins being played so discerningly, had kept him awake most of the night. Were there feelings in her heart that she had not yet understood? Should he even dare reflect of such feelings? Perhaps he was only a brother in her eyes.

He could not believe she had so much faith in him. She did not appreciate the fact he was not the most suitable person to be asking about whom she should marry. His own selfish reasons could be considered biased.

His subjects had asked for his stately opinion on hundreds of occasions, but never with so much honesty as Elora had. He was to decide the fate of any man or woman that came before him. They were his to command. The manner in which Elora stated it had a fresh meaning to him. She would not do what a king commanded, but what a trusted companion would advise. She depended on his judgment not because he was crowned by divine right, but because she saw wisdom in his heart. She did not tell him this; she did not have to. They were past words in those minutes while they danced. Her spirit spoke out to him through her gleaming eyes; touching him in such a way that astonished him.

Now he knew what he had been feeling all these months; it was love. He had never experienced it before. He thought he had; he thought he felt it every time he was with a lady. He was always in love, but not this sort of love. This pure, honest love nullified all other claims, which came before Elora.

It pained him, understanding the sort of injuries she felt; what trials of the mind and heart she must be going through. Decisively, he knew he must do something to cheer Elora's spirits and he would do it in the only way his urbane mind knew how. It was the ideal time to hold a ball in her honor, _The Roux Ball_.

His scheming mind was disturbed by a knock at the door. Now his thoughts must move to his other scheme. Elora was determined on going out into the city today. He still could not bear for her to go unchaperoned. If he could only escape his day's duties, mask himself, and follow her. Whether he kept to his rooms today or not, he could not escape without anyone detecting him. Someone would have to know and whoever it was would never allow such an escapade. He was king, yet could not achieve this one matter. He was too beloved to evade the ever-loving clutches of his adoring courtiers. Besides, Italy was the topic of discussion today and he really could not postpone such a matter.

Captain d'Artagnan was guided in the room and kneeled at his feet.

"_Mon Capitaine_, I am in need of your services. There is a particular lady I need to have discreetly tracked as she makes her way through the city today. I wish for her safety to be of highest concern. He will have to be a guard she would not recognize, which is why I summoned you to speak with you personally."

"Who is the lady, Your Majesty?"

"The Comtesse de Valréas."

D'Artagnan's eyes shifted downward, as his grin faded. "That proves a problem…for this particular lady has acquaintance and knows the Christian name of every man under my authority at Versailles."

"Every man? How is this achievable?" She was distressing him and she had not even left the grounds yet.

"She is a friendly, amiable lady, Your Majesty. I attempted to tell her it was inappropriate to speak with the guards, especially while on duty, but she would have none of that. She was quite insistent. She converses with many. Sometimes she brings my men cakes and pastries on Sundays. She is a real favorite with my men."

Did he know so little of Elora Roux? He was taken quite aback by such conversation. "How does she come by thus said desserts?"

"I believe she had made friends with the servants in the kitchens. I doubt," Captain d'Artagnan said with a sigh, "there is a servant, man or woman, in the chateau who she would not recognize."

If she only put as much effort into acquainting herself with the courtiers she would have many connections by now. What allure was there in associating with the servants instead? "She should know better than to be bothering the servants. How could I have failed to notice such behavior?–Do you have anyone at all to complete the task?"

"Now that I think on it, there is one man; just transferred from Paris last week. It is probable she has not met with him yet."

"You must send him then.–I have given my word to her that she may have some time to herself. She does not understand my concern about her traveling alone. She would see me sending a guard to watch her as a betrayal. I cannot have that.–He is to dress in street clothes. He must follow a moderate distance behind her and make certain she does not fall into any danger or cause a scene that could put her in jeopardy."

"It will be done as you have said, Your Majesty.–I see your concern for her, but you must grant she is a very capable lady, who uses her wit in precarious circumstances. She may not know how to handle a weapon, but I have seen her outrun half my men and knock to the ground the other half in hand-to-hand combat."

"Where has she needed to use such force?"

"In the soldiers annex, where my men train. She visits there sometimes to watch the men at their exercises. She has demonstrated her talents once or twice. It is an effective motivator for the men."

He could not hear any more of this or he might become so furious as to summon Elora to his chamber this very moment to explain herself. He would have to talk with her some time soon, but would wait until his temper cooled.

"Go now, she will be leaving within the hour. Bring her back to me safe."

"Yes, my king."

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Elora was overjoyed to finally be able to go off chateau grounds. She had left once for the Chartres Ball, but that had been a disappointment; spending all her time sick in the carriage, sleeping, or confined to bed in the castle.

She walked out the front, through the Marble and Royal Courtyard, past all the carriages lined up to drop people off at court. So many lived off the chateau grounds and had to make their commute in to court daily. She was glad she did not have to deal with that.

She came to the gates and saw Thierry and Jean posted there. Both were younger guards. Thierry had been a guard for five years, but Jean was still a newbie, not there a year. Neither were married, but she thought she remembered Thierry saying something about liking this girl who worked in the chateau, but he had his mother to care for already and she was a handful. Jean was one of those men who was very dedicated to his job and had no time for anything else; even in spending two minutes casually conversing and she was happy to oblige. He would change his priorities when he met the right girl someday.

They stood at attention, with their backs to the chateau, facing the city in order to keep out the _undesirables_. "Hello, Thierry," she spoke as she stopped beside him. "Lovely day!"

"Finally have a chance to visit the city, my lady?"

"Yes and I couldn't be more pleased about it. I will see you in a few hours."

"I will be here, my lady."

She walked on, now pulling out the scrap paper where she had written down Suzanne's directions. There was one place in particular she wanted to visit today. After getting past the stables and annexes she fell into the bustling city. At a distance, from the windows of the chateau, the city had appeared to have a peaceful, frozen-in-time look. Being here was a contradiction. It was loud as could be, considering there was no roaring motors or horns blowing. There were people of all ranks walking the streets. Open carriages, carts carrying loads, horses tied beside shops made this adventure all the more fascinating. Vendors took up so much space on the roads she could barely make it out of the street long enough to avoid being trampled by the oncoming traffic. She had to remember horses did not have anti-lock brakes attached to their reins.

There were many beggars hanging around and she supposed there were pickpockets as well who she did not see. With this new gown Louis had ordered for her she was certainly not able to blend in with the crowd. Even her red silk cloak screamed, "I'm rich, rob me please." She had her money purse with her, but not where any pickpocket would get at it. She had strategically pinned it to the inside of her hat. Yes indeed, no once could tell she had nearly a hundred gold louis' coins sitting atop her head. Suzanne called her silly to do such a thing, but she wanted to be extra careful since it was so much money.

She passed taverns, inns, warehouses where they made pots, patisseries for desserts, boulangeries for fresh, hot bread, millinery shops for hats and ribbons, couturières like Madame Desiree, shoe makers, tailors, cobblers, furriers, and glovers. She could not imagine Paris having more shops.

She had never gotten Louis a birthday present. It had been too late when she thought of it and then the miscarriage slowed her down. It was past due for her to get him a little something. Louis was very difficult to buy for, for the simple fact he already had everything at his fingertips. She decided it would be best to replace the hat she had ruined on the carriage ride to Chartres. He had just mentioned how much he liked his new hat when she grabbed it from him in place of a barf-bag. This was not her most embarrassing moment in her short life, believe it or not.

Turning down Rue de Fontenay she spotted Monsieur Durant's Hat Shop across the street. He was said to be the best hatter within one hundred miles of Versailles. She entered the store and saw the shop assistant was already with a gentleman. She recognized the man too. She turned her back to him, looking about the shop, hoping he would not notice her.

It was Le Tellier's sniveling son, Louvois. Le Tellier was one of the king's council and highly favored by Louis. She never seemed to associate in his circle, so she did not know the man very well. Louvois was another story. His father had been grooming him for years for the same council position as he. She would admit he was capable of the job, even relatively intelligent. His manner with gentlemen was respectful, but he looked upon all women as inferior and treated them thus. She had danced with him once or twice.

His conversation was condescending, arrogant, and even a bit lewd. When she tried to remark on what he had said he would not listen. He acted like she had not right to have an opinion or even speak in his presence. What bothered him most in her conversations with him was he never failed to criticize about her accent or her homeland, through some a veiled insult.

He was the sort of man she was glad stayed away from her when Chris was hanging out with her. Now Chris was out of the picture she had only Louis. She was just waiting for Louvois to reveal his attitude when Louis was around, but so far he had kept his fat mouth closed. If Louis heard him say half the things he said about her he would set the man straight.

She took this moment when all the men were looking the other way to quickly remove her hat and pulled out her purse.

The hats she looked over were nice, but certainly nothing quite so grand as the king would wear. Then she saw one. It was a fine black velvet hat, with a low crown and a large brim. Composed of gold lace around the brim and accented with bunches of white feathers. Yes, she liked this hat.

Louvois had left and the shop-assistant was making his way toward her. He seemed nice, but a salesman all the same. "Excellent choice, my master created this just the other day. I only placed it on the rack this morning."

"Well I was looking for a neutral color so he might wear it with many outfits."

"Do you have his measurements so I might ensure this hat will be a proper fit for the gentleman?"

"My servant wrote his measurements here." She handed him the slip of paper and followed him to his work station. "I need a very extravagant hat for this gentleman. You know better than I, sir. Is this a hat grand enough for one of the royal family to wear?"

"Not at all." She was dismally disappointed with that one comment. "I would suggest a bit more pomp if grandeur is your aim. Let's take out these goose feathers and replace them with a handful white ostrich plumes from the wilds of Africa, pinning them down with these diamond stickpins set in gold. We can add a diamond fleur-de-lis brooch onto the lace at the brim toward on side.–How does this suit you?"

"Wow, Monsieur, you really made it quite perfect for him."

"How shall I mark the inside of the hat?"

"Ah…" She was not sure of what he meant.

"The gentleman's name. Your father? Brother?"

"My friend.–Can you put…wait let me write it for you. It may be tricky if you don't know the language." She wrote, _Louis, #1 King_. He did not know what it meant and she was not going to explain it to him. She was worried if he found out it was for Louis he might make a big to-do about her buying it.

"Whom do I charge this to?"

"I'll be paying now." She shook her little coin purse until it jingled. "How much?"

"With additional ornaments, being of the first quality, it comes to ninety-three gold louis'.

That was a lot more than she had planned for. This was really the first time she had handled French money, so really had no knowledge of the value of anything. She supposed it was a fair price; it was not like they were costume-jewels he added. Unfortunately she only had ninety-eight louis' and a few silver sol coins saved up. Now she was practically broke. She would have to use her remainder of money carefully at the card tables.

The shop assistant packaged the hat very nicely in a hatbox. "Where shall I have this sent, my lady?"

"Oh, I'll take it with me."

"But, you have no servant attending you to carry it."

"Don't worry, I think I can handle it."

"Monsieur Durant would not approve of letting a fine lady leave his shop carrying a purchase."

"Well, I am not a great lady, just a simple ward of the king."

"A very elegant gown for so simple a lady."

Her eyes narrowed on the man. She was just about ready to grab the box out of his hand. She had given him the money, why was he giving her such a hard time? She needed to keep her temper in check. If word of her decking him got back to Louis she would never be able to come out into the city again.

"Please let me have the hat.–The quality of my dress means nothing. I live in the chateau, but I want to see that this hat comes personally from me to him. Beside courtiers in the chateau are accustomed to seeing me doing unusual things, like carrying hatboxes about. I will do no harm to your business, I promise."

He slowly handed it to her and she booked it out of the shop as quickly as possible before he changed him mind and came running after her. She did not stay out too much longer before returning to the chateau. She had no money to spend, but she window shopped a bit, making mental notes of what she would come back for when she got more money.

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A woman wandering the streets alone was a dangerous affair. He could not help thinking all through his council meeting that trouble would find Elora Roux. d'Artagnan was perhaps correct. She had put up a fight when he made an advance on her back in April. If someone attacked her she would likely react similarly. He could envision her walking down the cobbled streets and a thief steal something of hers. She would go running after him, quickly catch up, and would introduce her right hook to him.

Philippe was doing what he loved best, speaking with the attention of the entire room hanging on his every word. Lionne, his Council of Foreign Affairs, was enjoying every word. Louis knew his speech on the trade industry of the duchies of Milan and Venice was rounding to an end and was glad of it. Soon he would be eating his midday meal and enjoying the peace of his brother's silence. He had quite enjoyed Philippe's absence from court; indeed his expedition had been too short.

His page entered the room with a note addressed to him. He took the note and read it without Philippe pausing once. His brother obviously cared not that he might not have his full attention at this moment. Captain d'Artagnan stated in the note that Elora had just returned and there had been no incident while she was in the city. His guard had not been found out either.

He interrupted Philippe, who was now going on about the export of textile from France, concluding the council meeting for today. Louis was resolved that trade should continue with Italy, even though Spain was putting the pressure on the city-states to give them the superior yield and leave France with the more inferior.

After eating with select gentlemen it came the hour for his afternoon walk. He summoned Elora Roux to join him with his entourage. He had much to speak with her about. Having just sent a page for her, he was surprised to see her walking to join him at the opposite side of the Hall of Mirrors. Her new green and blue gown glimmered as she walked in the sunlit hall. He had thoroughly transformed a scraggly, trousers-clad girl into a fine lady.

"Comtesse, how have you enjoyed your day?"

"Your Majesty," she made a formal curtsy before taking his arm. He found it amusing that the only moments she chose to curtsy or referred to him the in correct manner was when they were in public. "I had the best time in the world. Versailles is lovely. It's the quaintest thing having a separate shop for every little necessary and doodad. No supermarkets or department stores in sight; it was refreshing."

"What did you do other than walk about? I do not see you wearing anything new that I have not provided for you.–I do mean to say you do not appear divine as you are because you do."

"Well, I really did not buy much of anything. I mainly browsed, thinking about things I may get the next time I venture into the city.–That is, if there is to be a next time."

They had just stepped outside and she nearly tripped on the ledge, for she was looking to him for an answer, instead of the step before her. She recovered herself, barely putting much weight on his sturdy arm.

"You know I did not get into a bit of trouble. Everyone took me for a lady of France.–So may I go when I like?"

"You may, but inform me in advance."

They walked for some time. He pointed out some birds swimming about in the Grand Canal. "So you will not be sending anyone out to watch me next time."

"What?" Now it was he who nearly lost his footing. How had she known? "You detected him?" Heads would roll now!

"No," she said after a painful pause. "Whoever you hired for the job was very good at it. No, I just knew. Not that I felt I was being followed. Just, I knew you and your baseless worry. It's very sweet, you know; even though it drives me crazy sometimes.–He didn't tell you where I went exactly did he?"

"No, should he have?"

She shook her head at that time taking noticed of Lady Thérèse Morlaix and her beau arm in arm behind them a short distance. Elora made a jerk of the head, apparently asking if they may approach. Of course, how could he deny her? He summoned the lady and gentleman to walk beside them.

"Oh, Elora, are you not excited for your ball?" exclaimed Lady Thérèse, completely ruining his surprise.

"Huh? There's going to be a ball? Here at Versailles?" Elora turned to look at him for answers.

"Dear Cousin, you robbed me of my surprise."

"Deeply sorry, Your Majesty. I thought…I assumed she knew."

"What are you guys talking about?" Elora laughed, still confused.

"Elora," he began. "I am to have a ball for you in a month's time. I have named it the Roux Ball."

"Why would you do something like that?" Her words were not entirely pleased, but she was smiling brightly.

"Elora," Thérèse mumbled. "You will embarrass the king.–Shall I answer for you?" He gave her a nod, enjoying his cousin's sweetness. "His Majesty honor's your position. He does this to please you; bring you joy as you have brought him joy."

"Cousin, I could not have said it better myself."

"Wicked! A ball sounds great! Gee, today just keeps getting better and better." She leaned into his ear, "Louis, thank you for this. You know so well how to improve my spirits.–Join me back in my room. I have my own surprise."

They ended their walk sooner than everyone expected, mainly because he wanted to know what Elora had in store for him in her room. He knew he should not think she might be prepared to make love to him, but it was the first idea that came to mind when she mentioned going to her room.

Elora closed the door behind them, kicking off her shoes at the same time. He stood still waiting for her next action. "I wanted to do this right when I got back earlier, but I knew you were busy and I could not wait until tonight." She walked to the chair and picked up a package. "This is for you, Louis." She handed it out to him.

This was unexpected. "What's this?"

"Let's call it a belated birthday present slash thank you for being such a great friend."

After opening the box he found a handsome hat. The coloring and embellishments certainly suited him. "I could not have chosen a better hat myself. It is perfect, Elora, but how did you afford such an item?"

"The shop assistant fancied it up for you, so it cost me a little more than I expected. I used just about all my savings, but saved a little to earn more at cards."

He discarded the hat, growing in concern. He was learning a great deal today. "Are you telling me the only sou you have acquired is from gambling at my card tables? Are you not receiving an allowance from me?"

"Allowance?" She smiled as if the word was a joke. "For doing what? You won't let me do any chores around the chateau, so why would you give me money?"

"All of my wards receive a small monthly allotment and as my mistress you should have money at your fingertips." Her mouth had formed an o; she had no idea what he was speaking of. "Do not worry, I know who is to blame for this neglect and I am sure it was not an oversight." One name jumped out in his mind, _Colbert_, his money-conscious Minister of Finance.

"Louis, calm down. I don't need or want your money. I really have everything I could ever want. Forget I said anything. I don't want to get anybody in trouble." Desperate to change the subject, she picked up the hat, looking pleased. With one hand she removed the one he wore at present and placed the new one on his head. Tipping her head to judge its appeal on him she smiled with approval. "So you like the hat. I thought it was a good choice since you had to dispose of your favorite hat because of me."

The girl had little to no money and she had spent it all on a gift for him. He could not expect any less from Elora though, but was still surprised at the gesture. "It is a very elegant hat, Elora. It fits perfectly. I hardly know if anyone has put so much consideration into a gift as you have with this. Many thanks. I will wear the hat tomorrow, on our walk." He took her hand, kissing it tenderly. "Elora, will you dance every dance with me tonight. I have no desire to have any other partner to spend time with and I do not wish to share you tonight. You have pleased me greatly today."

She was obviously not satisfied with his kiss, for she pulled him into her arms with a great embrace. "I should say the same, Louis. I'm so glad!"

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Elora could not fall asleep that night. Her excitement from the day was like a caffeine stimulant. She crawled out bed and went to Louis' room. Considering the late hour she figured it would be best if she entered his apartments through the attic floor and used the king's staircase, instead of passing so many courtier's rooms and going down the public stairs. This upper room was designed for the king's mistress to occupy, so he would have easy access to her bedroom. Since she was his _mistress_ and refused the room she knew it would be vacant. She passed through the dark rooms and down the Louis' spiral staircase. This was the main reason she did not go to see him this way often; she always got dizzy using those stairs, though they were really cool.

She quietly passed the sleeping First Valet of the King's Bedchamber, Alexandre Bontemps. Though he said little ever to her or to anyone other than Louis, he was an interesting guy that was very devoted to assisting Louis in all matters of the bedchamber. She did not want to wake him up, he would definitely object to letting her in to see Louis at this time of night.

She saw Gerard, the night guard was at the king's door. He was certainly startled by her coming into room from that passage, but in seconds he recognized her and stood at ease. She had become friends with him while Louis was sick. He was a nice guy. Pretty old, like forty or so. She knew he had a wife and at least ten kids living in a small village outside of Paris.

"Lady Elora, what do you do about here now?"

"Gerard, I need to see the king for just a minute."

"My lady, I am not supposed admit anyone at this hour."

"I know, but the king will not mind seeing me. I promise you won't get into trouble on my account."

He nodded and moved aside for her. She scratched lightly at the door and heard Louis mumble something like "_Entre_". As Elora crept into his room with her candlestick, she pushed back the red and gold cloth that surrounded the bed. She found Louis was still sleeping. She sat next to him and whispered into his ear. "Louis…Louis…wake up."

"Hmm…Elora, is something the matter?"

"No, I just wanted to know if you would like to join me for a midnight stroll in the garden."

"It's terribly late." He turned to her with open eyes, not bothering to sit up; they were past such formalities.

"That's the fun of it."

He was about to call in his levee of nobles to get him dressed and she was sure at the same time he would wake up half the chateau. She would not be getting dressed any further than her nightgown, so she insisted the same from him.

"I will meet you in the gardens. I'll be a few minutes behind you."

As she was leaving the room she saw him through the corner of her eye getting out of bed to follow after her. Elora practically skipped out of the room back to the spiral staircase and down to the gardens barefoot; waiting for him by the Water Parterre. She only imagined how adventurous this night would turn out to be with Louis with her.

She stood waiting, soaking in nature's magical scene. How beautiful this warm July night was. The incandescent golden moon was full and faintly illuminated the gardens, as well as reflecting magnificently off the rippling waters of the large pools.

She was there not five minutes before she saw Louis coming out the doors. He was wearing only black breeches and white shirt, which was half buttoned. She was certain this was his attempt to dress himself. If he had woken Bontemps he would undoubtedly be formally attired for this outing. She had told him while he was sick that wearing a long nightshirt and having long hair made him look like a girl. From that point on he was uncomfortable with her seeing him in his nightclothes. She had mentioned it only to tease him jokingly and she hated that he took it so personally. She knew they had not invented pajamas yet, but it was nevertheless weird to her to see men wearing gowns, even in this time where it was common.

He still looked half asleep until he focused on her. His eyes glowed with the faint necessity of the moonlight. His polished gait as he walked toward her was incredibly sexy. Barely breathing, she went to meet him half way. She kept asking herself why she had dragged him out here, but could find no reason to satisfy.

"All right, Elora, I am here. I could not turn down your offer.–What shall we do?"

"I'm not sure. Let's take a walk down the Green Carpet and see if we get an idea." Elora took hold of his arm and began to walk with him.

They descended down the stairs, approaching the Fountain of Latona. She had forgotten about the pebbled path around the fountain; again she was shoeless. Louis was prepared though, clad with his black slippers. He was not even looking in her direction as they went down the steps, yet he promptly stopped at the last step. He looked at her with his arms held out in front of his. "Shall we?" He was about to scoop her up in his arms, when she stopped him. She hopped back up a couple of steps and turned Louis' back to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kicked up her legs. He took hold of her bare legs and laughed all the way to the Green Carpet as he carried her piggy-back over the jagged stones.

He mentioned the interesting attire she wore. She was glad he noticed and mentioned the improvements she made on such boring nightgowns. She had shortened this one at least a foot to just below the knees and cut the lacey turtle neck into a comfortable v-neck. She would have thought the French would have had the most stylish lingerie, but it was all Puritan-conservative looking.

Now only the circular fountain of Apollo stood in their view with the night sky and silhouetted trees as a backdrop. This fountain was practically the size of a swimming pool. In the center were gilded statues of the god Apollo in his chariot pulled by four noble steeds. It was like they were drawing the chariot up from the water and were about to fly away up to the sky. Water sprayed forth from all angles. It was absolutely lovely.

Elora curtsied. "May I have this dance?"

"But there is no music," Louis countered.

"Then imagine it. I have yet to see you turn down a dance."

Louis immediately bowed, prepared to uphold his record. They danced the waltz to the splashing water of the fountain. She had taught him the waltz one afternoon after a private lunch together, a week or so before the Chartres' Ball. She loved dancing with Louis. He was the only partner she ever had who always knew just where to lead her. His step was so confident she felt safe to close her eyes as they danced. The polished stone was so smooth and cool beneath her twirling feet. She finished the dance with a curtsy.

"You look even lovelier under the golden orb of night."

She smiled at his compliment and took his hand as they walked through the marble path between the tall, wall-like bushes. They came upon the circle of pink, violet, and blue marble columns of the Colonnade. In the center stood a huge sculpture of Persephone.

Louis lifted her hand and twirled her around to face him, quite startling her. "Elora, why did you really ask me out here?"

He was so close now they were nearly touching. She could feel his warm breath brush against her face. She slowly backed away, step by step, but he kept coming closer. His movement was rhythmic, as if he were moving to a tune.

She was about to throw him a pert remark, but her pounding heart stopped those words from slipping out. "Because I wanted to be with you."

"Why?" His steps still advanced towards her.

"Because…" She backed into a column and he purposely leaned up against it, cornering her. "Because I like you…very much." She looked up at him to find his eyes on her. She saw only love shining forth, not lust that was so often painted on his face. Could he actually be in love with her?

He whisked the back of his hand across her cheek ever so slowly. His turquoise eyes sparkled and his lips curved upwards into a slight smile. She suddenly felt a strong attraction to Louis, more so than ever. He had always had a handsome look, but now his entire being was intoxicating. Being so close to him was making it hard for her to breathe. His piercing stare matched with his bold touch turned her stomach aflutter.

Her smile wordlessly consented to the question his heart was asking. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tenderly cupped her face in his hand. Then he ever so slowly leaned in, kissing her upon the mouth. Her body surrendered to the kiss. One arm reached around and hung on the nape of his neck. His body pressed to hers with desire, yet his kiss was soft and innocent. When their lips parted she rested her head against his chest.

"I have waited so long for that," he sighed softly in her ear.

Louis' lips against hers had been soft and warm. He had taken her by surprise, but somehow she now felt as if she had been waiting for him to kiss her all her life. She struggled to take in a breath, then murmured in a love-struck voice, "Me too."

Then she opened her eyes and saw Louis smiling at her. A strand of his hair had come loose from the rest tied in a ponytail. She moved to tuck it behind his ear, touching him as soft as a sigh from his temple to his ear with finest tip of her fingers.

He began to walk her back with him in the direction of the chateau. He told her of the grand chambers she would move into, of her choice of the finest clothes and jewels better than any ladies at court, and of the higher station she would have. All the luxuries of a true mistress would now be hers.

They did not take more than ten steps before she stopped him. He went to kiss her again, but she turned her head away. That was not what she wanted at this moment. Her heart felt as if it had just fallen into the pit of her stomach. He had said the very things she was dreading. She hated the word mistress more than anything. It was so demeaning and immoral sounding. Now the one person she cared most for was referring that word to her like it should be a good thing.

What had she started? She cursed herself for ever asking him out to the gardens. She most certainly would not have let him kiss her if she would have thought this through better. It was too late now. She would now have to go to a place with Louis she never wanted to.

"So you want me to become your mistress for real; with all the benefits that comes with the appointment. Louis, what's the point of starting this when it can go nowhere? How long can it last? I've heard you've never kept a mistress for more than a month before tiring of them. I know what will happen. We will have some good times and I will likely fall in love with you. Then your feelings will fade, like they always do once you've had a woman to your bed. When that happens what will become of me? I will never let you marry me off to someone, like you have done with the others. You will move on to the next lucky lady and I will only be fit to continue the kind of life you shaped for me. I, a ruined woman in this century, will be passed from one man's bed to another, traded like a piece a meat."

A tear fell from her eye, though she struggled not to cry. "Well Louis, that's not a good enough offer for me! I won't trade my virtue for a broken heart and some jewels. It was fine pretending, but I can't really do it. That's not the direction I will let my life to go in! God gave me a second chance to do it right after the miscarriage and I plan to live my life righteously. If you think I can only be your _mistress_ now then I say the idea of there being an _us_ is an impossible one."

"But Elora, you cannot refuse me. I think I am falling in love with you."

"What a thing to say! That's even worse!" She pushed his clingy arms off her. She walked backwards past the great statue in the Colonnade, as he followed behind. "You love me, yet you want to destroy my chances of happiness. You love me, yet you would subject me to the life of a whore. What kind of love is that?"

"Why do you look at this so dismally, when I can only see the silver-lined clouds? Oh Elora, I do want you to be happy. When we kissed what did you suppose of the future?"

"I never planned to kiss you tonight. I was going to keep secret all the feelings I had for you. If I never admitted to them, then we could just continue our awesome friendship. Now that we have admitted to our feelings I was thinking we could date; though I suppose it is unconventional in this century. In my time girls and boys don't just go from being single to married. They meet, they woo, they spend time together trying to find out if they like each other enough to want to continue to be together."

"Dating appears to be the same as courting."

"It's so much more, but it's difficult to explain and I'm so tired of explaining."

"What results from dating?"

"Well they either figure out if they click together. If they love each other enough then they continue the relationship until they feel prepared or have the desire to marry. For us fulfilling our relationship in marriage is out of the question. So, since you cannot marry me and I cannot be your mistress, there is no point to this. We will either end up hating each other if it doesn't work out or if it does we'll both end up with broken hearts in a relationship that cannot progress."

She turned around and began to walk back to the chateau. Louis rushed ahead of her, blocking her path, forcing her to face him.

"Elora, planning the end when it has just begun is ridiculous. You cannot know how things will turn out. I quite like your idea of dating. I will never refer to you as my mistress again, on my honor. You are part of me now; my heart beats only for you."

He put her unwilling hand to his heart. He was close to her again, so much so that he looked as if he was about to embrace her, but he did not.

"There is something else I need to say. We can have a lovely relationship, filled with so many good things, but I will have to share you? I believe only in monogamy. If you want to be my boyfriend then you will have no girlfriend but me."

"You will not let me make love to you and want _me_ to be abstinent along with you?"

"Well, yes plenty of men do it. I am disappointed you said it with such an astounded tone. I would have thought this was obvious, but I forgot where I am and who I am with. If we are going to have a serious relationship then you can't screw around with other women."

"Why do you say this now? Only weeks ago when I called you my mistress you had no objection to sharing me. It would mean nothing to me. You will still be the only lady in my heart."

"We were not in a _real_ relationship then. It was just a show we were putting on. It was not my place to ask such a thing of you. Now it is.–I love how you suggest sex with another woman as if it would be meaningless. It would mean something to me; my heart would break. How is it with men you have to have sex all the time and you can convince yourselves that sex means nothing. Sex is an awesome example of God's love for us. Sex is the means for creating life. I would say that's the most meaningful thing there is.–We're getting off topic here. If you are to be mine I want all of you. I refuse to share."

He turned away from her now. "No one has ever demanded this of me."

This time she forced him back around to face her. She took hold of both of his hands. "Tell me honestly Louis, is what you feel for me like what you have felt before with other women? Do you see our relationship falling into the same rhythm as your past ones?"

"No, you are the only one I genuinely care about."

Did her heart skip or just flutter from his sweet words? "Since you care so much for my feelings, you should understand that it would hurt me immensely if you were unfaithful to me, whether I found out about it later on or not."

"But be abstinent?"

"Yes."

"Louis, can you make such a sacrifice to see if this relationship of ours could work?"

"Certainly, but what will people think? I am known to be a virile king."

"They will admire your strength, will-power and moral code for treating a woman who is not your wife honorably." She wrapped his arms around her, rested her head on his chest.

Louis sighed. She was so afraid he would not agree to this. She had asked too much from him. He could never understand her futuristic ideals.

"Elora, as I have said, I need you. I care for you in more ways than a friend ever could. I want to be close to you. I want to be able to kiss you freely to express my feelings. I will do what I have to in order to keep you.–Now kiss me before my heart bursts!"

Elora kissed him with all the thankfulness she was feeling. His lips were soft and welcoming. He tightly wrapped his arms about her once again. She loved his sandalwood scent, it was so faint she could only catch a whiff of it when they were very close.

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Louis was a little distressed with what he had just agreed to. Women were truly experts at manipulating men. He respected her for her morals, but at the same time his throbbing manhood was wishing she had none.

Forgetting all else, he was elated from the simple fact that she let him kiss her and more importantly she enjoyed it. And what a magnificent kiss it was; definitely worth the wait. He was half expecting Elora to hit him, like she did in his first attempt a few months ago. He knew now his approach that day in April had been all wrong. Elora Roux was not a woman to be handled like the other ladies.

His self-assurance was lost with Elora. She was unlike any other woman he had ever dealt with, so their kind of relationship was all new to him. How was he supposed to conduct himself? What was he supposed to do with her since they obviously were not going to be having sexual relations anytime soon?

They walked slowly and silently around the grand fountain. He mentioned how happy he was that she had woken him tonight and how perfectly he believed their romance had begun. He confessed he had never imagined doing anything as spontaneous as this. It was a refreshing change. Only she could bring this sort of excitement into his life.

He then must have triggered another idea in her head for her eyes lit us as she squeezed his hand. She pointed to the godly fountain. "Let's take a swim."

His eyes widened, as he understood her outlandish meaning.

"Louis, you can do it, just let loose. Don't worry about being king or having to do things perfectly or doing everything on schedule. You need to relax and have some fun. Who deserves a break more than you?–Come on."

"Well, I am not sure about this." He hesitated. Her English words were crass, but she always made a point. "Is this what boyfriends do with their women? Jump into the water in the middle of the night?"

"If I tell you yes, will you come in?"

He gave her a look.

"Well it isn't traditional, but let's call this improvisation."

Elora pulled at his arm with insistence. She stepped into the showering mist of the fountain. She was soaked in seconds. Elora must have forgotten she was wearing a very thin white nightdress. Unfortunately she was wearing dark undergarments. It would have been nice to see all the way through her nightdress, but from the way it clung he saw enough to be glad he could freely kiss her now.

He hopped into the fountain beside Elora. She used both hands beckoning him to her. "Come and get me!"

He went after her, but she was too fast for him. The water was about three feet deep and he fumbled when he first began to run. She taunted briefly, since he could not catch her. He steadily began to gain on her and finally got hold of her leg. They both went down face first and got completely immersed in the water.

"I caught you, Elora. Now what is my reward?"

"I'll give you a reward," Elora said as she pulled him to his knees by his shirt and kissed him quite passionately.

They played around a little longer in the fountain. Soon after they began to get tired, thus they sat on the fountain wall and relaxed. Actually he sat and Elora laid on her back with her head in his lap. He fondled one of her curled locks, as Elora had his other hand in hers, tracing the lines on his palm. Her touch was as erotic as a skilled courtesan.

They went back in the chateau soon afterwards. He kissed Elora once more as she bid him goodnight in his bedchamber, before walking back to her own chamber. He had wanted to take her there himself, but she resisted. He went to bed with a sense of peace he had not felt since childhood.


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

The next morning Elora walked the halls with an all-knowing smile. As she passed courtiers she thought about the great secret she held in her heart. She felt both tingly and excited, wondering how long it would be before people would notice her relationship had deepened with their king. She would still be seen as his mistress, but as long as he knew she was not, that was enough for her. She could not expect him to call her his _girlfriend_ in public, no one would understand. All the things Louis agreed to last night only heightened her good opinion of him. She knew she was very lucky to have the affections of a worthy man with such a respectable character. She hoped he would be able to live up to his promises.

Louis' kisses had rejuvenated her, as if his lips had some magical power. She had not foreseen what happened last night, but was glad it happened. She could barely believe she was dating a king. She knew she was overstepping her bounds getting involved with someone in a class above herself. They could never have a future together because of that distinction. It was not a rational idea that their relationship could reach complete fulfillment, but if love were a rational feeling then they would not have begun this. If dating Louis was wrong, how could his kiss feel so right? Even though he promised not to sleep with any other woman, she wondered how long he would actually be able to go without.

Though Louis was not a great reader, he had spoken to her a few nights ago about a wonderful book he had just finished. _Le Cid_ sounded like a lovely story filled with love and adventure. This had sparked her interest, but she had somehow forgotten about it until today. Why had she never gone to the library before? She did not remember ever hearing about it or even seeing one when she searched through the chateau. Upon inquiring where the library was she was informed of the fact there was none.

Louis usually read books after hearing his brother's recommendations. Prince Philippe had the largest collection of books, more than any courtier at Versailles. All the courtiers purchased their own books from the shops in town. Knowing Louis did not want her leaving the grounds, she decided the quickest way to browse the dusty shelves and find a book that suited her was to borrow one from the prince.

Yet she found out just minutes ago that her note to the prince was never received. He had gone out game hunting very early with Louis. She was not about to wait for him to return, especially since she had set her mind to spend the day reading. She had originally planned a long, solitary walk in the gardens with a book, but after looking out the window at the tempestuous, gray storm clouds in the distance she changed her mind. She would find someplace in the chateau to read. She hoped Louis' hunting party did not get caught up in it. She did not want him getting sick again.

Philippe's chambers were in the east wing. She barely ever visited this wing, mainly because she did not know anyone who lived there or at least no one she wished to visit. There was a guard at the Prince's door; she recognized him at once. Sebastian Pau was one of the young men she raced the first day she took a jog at Versailles. She saw him often, like many of the other guards.

She always made it a point to speak with the servants. They were far less pompous than the courtiers and she liked them. Being on good terms with them had been really helpful lately. They seemed more likely let her break the rules, though not so much to let her leave the chateau grounds without Louis' consent.

Sebastian had a wife living in the village with five children and another on the way. A month ago, she commissioned Madame Desiree to make a fine lacey, satin christening gown for the Sebastian's newest arrival; paid for by the proceeds of her poker winnings. She just gave it to him last week. He and his wife were thrilled with the gift.

Elora's only request was to have Sebastian bring the baby to the chateau sometime after the christening so she could see it. She believed he said the baby was due next month. They were hoping for another boy to even out their brood. She could not wait for that visit. She loved babies and had not seen one since she had come to Versailles. Courtiers never brought their babies into court. When any lady did get pregnant she always returned home to have the child.

She greeted Sebastian with a smile and inquired about his wife. She explained she was just going in to borrow a book and she was sure Prince Phillipe would not mind her actions. He let her enter without hesitation.

She found the small room adjoining his salon. The books were enclosed in glass cabinets built into the walls. He must have owned a thousand books, but they were all in French. She had not thought of that. Perhaps it would help her improve in the language; for her writing was inferior to her speech.

Since Philippe's return from Italy she had not really spoken with him. She had seen him the past two nights, but Louis had taken up all her time. Louis seemed to put a lot of effort into avoiding Philippe's company. She really did not know him very well, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He had generously given her his rosary beads when they first met, which was more than most would do. Tonight, she would make it a point to speak with him, perhaps even dance with him. She wondered if he danced as well as Louis.

She heard a clap of thunder and the gentle tapping of rain began seconds later. Louis' hunting was going to be cut short today. Still looking through the rows for the particular title, she heard the library doors open. Though surprised, she assumed it was Sebastian. She quickly turned and with a small gasp, curtsied.

"Comtesse, whatever are you doing in my chambers?" asked Prince Philippe.

His words had been of shock and displeasure. She was totally humiliated and tried to answer him honestly about her quest for reading material, but all she was able to say right off was, "I…I…was just…looking…"

He looked more curious than angry as he approached her. "How did you get in here? Have you been bribing my guards?"

"I wouldn't bribe anyone," she spoke clearly, finding courage from the accusation. "I have a good rapport with the servants, that's all."

"This is the most inappropriate behavior I have ever seen from a courtier; entering my chambers without my consent. I am quite sure you are not a Comtesse. Your patents of nobility must be forged. My brother has created this identity for you. Who are you really?"

She did not expect such an allegation from the prince.

"I do not know what you are talking about, Your Highness." She shifted her gaze from his, looking across the bookshelves, reading the book bindings, searching for anything to look at other than the prince's piercing blue eyes. "The prince must be paranoid. There is no secret to who I am. I am Elora Roux, the Comtesse de Valréas."

"You have taught yourself to say that with such conviction. You may be able to use your charms on the servants and my brother, but you will not have so easy a time with me.–You seem as if you are quite used to getting your own way. Do you think just because you are the king's mistress you may do whatever you please?"

Was he implying she was conceited or spoiled? She knew Louis had been spoiling her, but she never encouraged him. Just because he treated her so, did not mean she acted spoiled. Her intentions had been innocent, but what had she been thinking entering a stranger's room to take something of his without his permission? That was not her; at least not the person she used to be. The prince had justly humbled her and she was feeling the guilt of her behavior.

"Your highness, I am very sorry." She approached him slowly and bent down into a full curtsy. "I don't know what came over me. I do not think I have the right to do whatever I want. I should never have assumed you would be okay with this. It was just that Louis told me about this book and I did not think I would do any harm coming in to borrow it."

He wordlessly extended his hand to help her rise. He did not seem to be convinced of her apology. She ran over to the table and picked up the folded paper. "I left this note for you, telling you which book I was borrowing. I swear it was not my intention to invade your privacy. I'm so embarrassed. I really am very sorry!"

"The king will be responsible for chastising you, though I doubt you will get what you ought! That guard on the other hand will suffer for my displeasure!"

He stalked toward the doorway. She ran after him, grabbing hold of his arm to keep him from going further.

"Please! Please, don't get Sebastian in trouble."

He did stop, but looked down to where she was holding him. She should have let go, he was the prince, but she had to stop him somehow.

"Who is _Sebastian_?"

"He is the guard you are so set on punishing. He who has stood twelve-hour days at your door for eight years, faithfully protecting you."

"The servants of the crown are not my concern." He adjusted his doublet. "As long as they abide by their duties I have no reason to know them."

She could not help raising her brow. He was another snob. After becoming friendly with the common people she understood on a deeper level why this country was going to have a revolution in a hundred years. Knowing the attitudes of royalty and nobility made it even more obvious as well. Philippe's reply was the perfect example.

"This guard committed a treasonous act, no matter how pure his intentions were. He will be dealt with severely."

"I beg you, your highness. Take out your anger on me instead. I am more at fault than he."

"You are a courtier."

"Yet up until now you seemed to disbelieve that fact. You seem positive I am a commoner. So punish me thus. I have less to lose than him."

"Comtesse, should you not be more concerned with the fact I intend to tell your cherished Louis? This will certainly compromise his favor with you." He finally pulled his arm free from her grasp.

"I'll tell Louis myself if you like. I do not fear him; he would never hurt me. If he does not want me anymore my heart will break, but I will go on. All of this I can bear and justly deserve. I can take care of myself, but a guard cannot defend himself against a prince. He has a family. Have compassion, I'm sure he would never let someone in who would jeopardize your safety."

"I understand that, Comtesse. Yet his honor and standing has now been compromised."

"No, don't say that!"

"What would you do for me if I decided not to make any reports against this guard?"

He had changed his tune quickly. Was he blackmailing her? "I don't know…" Thinking about the trouble she got her friend in she said, "Just name it. Whatever you say."

Now it was his turn to raise a brow. "Someday I will come to you in need of a favor. Whatever I ask of you, you will do."

"You have my word, your highness. Thank you!"

"Now tell me, since you have risked so much coming here and now owe me dearly, you cannot honestly have entered my chambers just in search of a book."

He led her to the blue sofa, where they both sat. She was surprised his temper had just cooled so quickly. Now she owed him and she feared whatever it was he would someday ask of her would be a very bad thing. At this moment he was all smiles, as if everything that happened minutes ago had not been real.

"Your Highness, I…"

"Since you find yourself on such good terms with the servants to call them by their Christian names, I see no reason why it should be different with me. I shall be Phillipe, henceforth."

"Then please call me Elora.–Philippe, you have quite a temper don't you? I'm glad you've chilled out. Welcome home, by the way. I bet Italy was nice this time of year.–So, what made you come back so early from the hunt?"

"Looked like rain and my horse becomes skittish when lightning is about. I turned back perhaps fifteen minutes before the rest likely did."

"Oh.–Getting back to your question. I really just wanted to borrow a book. _Le Cid_, Louis said he borrowed it from you."

"Ah yes, by Pierre Corneille. I enjoyed it and it was simple reading for Louis. I am sure you have noticed by now our king is not the most avid reader."

"Well, it's not like Louis has a lot a spare time just to sit down in a quiet place to read for pleasure. I am sure he would read more if he did not have the responsibility of a nation on his shoulders."

"Quite a response from another of the king's foolish mistresses. I do not think you foolish like the rest though. You are quite quick witted. I can suggest some other titles you might enjoy if you wish it."

"You wouldn't happen to have any written in English?"

"I am afraid I have only one. His collected works of poetry were much too beautiful in English to translate.–Here, I will show you," Phillipe said as he took her arm, leading her to the opposite side of the library. He reached for a higher shelf by the window. He pulled down a rather thickly bound book. "Right here, the complete works of Master William Shakespeare. Have you ever read him before?"

"Oh, of course. He's like the most famous playwright who ever lived. I've read a bunch of his plays; mostly his comedies though."

She admitted _As You Like It_ was her favorite, even though it was sappy. She liked the idea of a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman. His favorite was Macbeth; she was not surprised it was an endearing plot for guys.

"I always felt bad that Duncan was killed at the beginning," she said as she flipped through the pages.

"So you have read it have you?–Duncan was a trusting fool. He could not have maintained his kingdom sufficiently. If not Macbeth, someone else would have taken his crown. I have always admired Macbeth's vision."

"If you want to get technical, it was originally Lady Macbeth's vision. So you think Macbeth turned out to be the better king?"

His mouth twisted bitterly as he carefully said, "Not precisely, but if I were in his place I would have done things differently."

His eyes burned like a flame, with an evil desire hidden within its depths. Were they still talking of the play? He was beginning to sound like the traitor everyone said he was. They said he caused rebellion among the people. He was just itching to take the crown from Louis.

"Now Philippe, what could you mean by that? Do things differently, like knowing your place and letting fate decide whether it was right for you to be king versus taking the road of betrayal and murder?"

"No. I simply would have ruled more wisely and ensured all of my enemies were truly dead."

Elora looked at him, shocked. Now he was really talking of murder. Could he really consider killing Louis, his own brother, just to gain power. It was disgusting to even imagine. She would have to talk this guy down. There was no way she would let him even consider hurting Louis. She would have to stay friends with him, just to keep tabs on him. Louis was right to be cautious around him; she would have to now too.

"_Blood will have blood,_ Philippe.There could never be a positive outcome for Macbeth because of the road he chose."

"It was not his deeds which made him a tragic figure, it was his weakness, his fear. He let himself be driven mad just from taking one man's life."

"He murdered in the foulest way possible, which could drive even the most courageous person to madness. He murdered the _innocent sleep_. Everything that happened from then on only added to it. He may have been cowardly and ambitious and even ruthless, but it was that sinful murder which caused his downfall.–So such a fate would be to anyone who committed such a betrayal of their king. Shakespeare understood justice always prevails in the end."

She watched his reaction closely, hoping to figure out if they were talking of life or the play. His face betrayed no emotion. He was still smiling and looking upon her with interest.

"I cannot remember the last time I held such an intellectual conversation about any book. You truly understand Shakespeare. When you first said you had read Macbeth, I truly thought you were either trying to make pleasant conversation or you only had a vague knowledge of it."

"Glad I was neither. Shakespeare's plays never fail to make an impression."

In high school she had an English teacher two years in a row who loved Shakespeare. She did not know how she got away with it, but she applied his works to practically the whole curriculum for both years. Most of her other classmates hated it, but she loved the poetry of his words and complexity of the plots he created.

He took this moment to retrieve _Le Cid_ for her.

"I believe we are going to get along very well, Elora Roux. I am very glad you chose to breech the doors of my chambers today. It was most providential. I am sorry for my anger, but we Frenchmen cherish our privacy."

"I understand now. I'm glad you're not angry anymore. I think we will be good friends before we know it. These books are perfect, Phillipe." She waved the books and emphasized her appreciation for letting her borrow them.

His dashing smile returned and he welcomed her to his little library at any time and she could borrow whatever she desired.

"I will tell Louis of your kindness."

"Elora, things have changed a great deal since I went away. You are now my brother's?"

"I am his as much as he is mine. I've cared very deeply for Louis for a long time now. I don't know what I would have done here without him. I love him dearly, but don't tell him that, he'll get a bigger head than he already has."

He did not say much to that, but she doubted from his tone that he sincerely believed her. She could understand how biased his perspective must be. Philippe had left for Italy months ago and so much had developed between them since. She had disliked Louis at the beginning. He had been a different man in April when she first came here. Phillipe had not seen enough of them together since his return to see the changes for himself.

He expressed she was welcome to stay in his library and read. When she refused he insisted he walk her back to her chamber. "It is dreadful I had to go away just when we were becoming acquainted." Phillipe sighed. "By now we could have been the dearest of friends, as you and Louis are."

She glanced his way as they slowly walked to her room. His eyes were blatantly focused on her and it was the same lustful way Louis used to look at her. She suddenly felt very aware of how improper them walking and talking together must look, arm in arm in public. She had to watch herself now that she was in the spotlight. She smoothly distanced herself from his side, hopefully without him marking her movement.

"How would you know how we are together? You have only been back two days."

"Yes, but Elora, courtiers talk."

She gazed out the window at the end of the hallway, beside her bedchamber door. "Well, thank you for carrying these. I hope to have a dance with you tonight."

"I would gladly be your partner for all of your free dances. Until tonight, Elora." He kissed her hand when he bowed.

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Elora was to meet him for a private supper. Last night she had been extremely friendly with Philippe. She mentioned something about him letting her borrow a book of his and the rest of the night it was Philippe this or Philippe that. He even had the gall to partner her for three dances in a row. Louis recalled many occasions of his brother stating flatly that he immensely disliked the activity and his time would be better suited at some useful pursuit. Yet last night Philippe could not be dragged from the dance floor. Elora had obviously enchanted him, as she did with every man who met her.

Louis did not like her becoming so friendly with his brother. Philippe could be a dangerous man and no one ever knew his motives behind his actions. It was for this reason he had planned a private evening with Elora tonight. He did not want to share his beloved for one moment tonight.

When she rushed in he was already there waiting. The meal was served immediately upon her arrival. She apologized for being a few minutes late. She had been chatting with her maidservant hair fashions. He did notice there was something different about her tonight. Her hair was not done up. No she had insisted on letting it down with a few small braids tossing about in her curls. She wanted to show him how long her hair had gotten. Now her hair had finally grown longer than his. It had been dreadfully short when they first met. Now there was more to love. But he did not want to spend the night talking about lady's hair fashions.

He was eager to tell her some very fascinating news. "Christophe Morlaix will soon be betrothed to the Viscomtesse de Chevalier. Chartres had informed me today when assisting me with my morning levee about his intentions on proposing to the girl. I gave my consent. I believe this is the best thing for him and he now will no longer upset you. You are all I care about."

"Betrothed! Are you kidding? Chris only just proposed to me less than two weeks ago! He's only been back at Versailles for a week and he already found himself a rebound skank! But she's not a skank," Elora realized. "I've met her, she's a really nice girl." She shook her head, looking up toward the painted ceiling. "He's is a real idiot. He swore to me he could never love another. See how long his true love really lasts. Good thing I didn't marry him, Louis."

"Elora, he simply said he was marrying. He did not say he loved this lady."

"Why would he marry without love? He is a very romantic man. He must like her somewhat to take the plunge."

"He is doing this to spite you, though he will fail miserably. He will find himself in a loveless marriage, which is not the worst of outcomes. Many deal with it every day."

"That's all you have to say? He is going to receive the most holy sacrament of marriage just to spite me? You would never act in such a way with your own life. How could you give your consent when you know he's marrying for the wrong reasons?–What am I saying? What have I done? This is all my fault. I broke him and now he's doing the most idiotic thing thinking that it will injure me, but will in fact make him suffer. That poor boy!"

Elora was already on her second glass when they began the entree. Dinner went on. By her fourth glass she was feeling the effects and her guilt about Chris seemed to be quickly dissipating. Elora walked over to him and asked him if they could sit in the parlor awhile. When they reached the sofa instead of sitting beside him, she sat on his lap. He felt a tad ill at ease, until she started to kiss him.

"I believe it is time for me to take the goblet out of your hand."

She could only giggle at his outrageous comment. When she went to stand her knees buckled and she lost her balance falling back onto the sofa. Louis valiantly picked her up and carried in the direction of her room.

"Put me down. I can walk on my own."

He could hardly stop laughing. With any other woman he would have been disgusted by her uncouth behavior. A lady could never be perceived well if she let herself become intoxicated. With Elora it was not vulgar, but amusing.

"Anne was always the one who drank too much, not me. We became friends in preschool and could not be parted since. Anne was always my best friend, but now that I know you I find you are my bestest friend. If you came back with me to the future I think I would turn my life upside down just to be with you. You would know my family, they would love you immediately and take you in for sure. We would have the time of our lives bombing about the world. We could go to carnivals and movies and play laser tag. We could spend our nights eating Chinese food from the little paper boxes and playing board games. We could go clubbing; you would love the dancing of my time. It has no rules, you dance what you feel to the rhythmic music. I could wear pants again. And you, oh you would look so hot in a pair of jeans and t-shirt."

He could hardly understand half of what she said, but smiled as if he knew anyway. Her futuristic colloquialisms puzzled him most of the time. He did like her ideas about her future with him in it. He was beginning to realize there was still so much of the future and more importantly her life that he did not know. He was carrying in his arms a library of knowledge in such a beautiful vessel. Her floral scent intoxicated just as much as it had the day he found her.

He sat her on the bed, now seeing her endearing smile. "I know what I would do first if I lived with you in your time."

She smiled brilliantly. "What?"

"I would marry you, Elora." He had not meant to say such a brazen idea out loud.

"If you weren't a king, then our difficulties wouldn't be as great. Don't forget in my time not many decent women marry at nineteen years old. They just screw around with men for ten years and do their best to catch a husband by the time they're thirty and beginning to looking old. But it wouldn't be like that with us."

"No. Not us. I would first go to your father. Then I would drop to a knee before you and you would consent. You could continue your schooling and I could go into whatever trade I desired. We would have a moderate estate, with enough room to entertain perhaps a hundred guests. And children would fit into this dream nicely."

She pulled him by his doublet down to kiss her. "I love your dream. Let's go back there tonight! Maybe if we both wish it as hard we can it will come true."

She held his hand and squeezed her eyes closed tightly. He should never have gone off so, but in her condition it was not likely she would remember much of it.

"Elora, where is your servant to assist you?"

"I don't know. Oh wait I do. I gave her the night off. I figured I could get ready for bed by myself tonight."

Perhaps she did not know what it meant when a lady sent away her servant for the night. Unless, she had been planning on allowing him to spend the night with her. No, that was not likely in the least.

"Stand up and I'll help you out of your gown."

Without hesitation she stood to allow him to assist her. He had expected some sort of _in your dreams_ retort. He concentrated attention on undressing her before she changed her mind. First her gown, then her petticoats, and her corset, until she was only left in her erotic silk chemise and silk stockings.

"Louis, you understand proper etiquette better than me. Should you be seeing me in my undergarments? A gentleman would not stare so," she mumbled in his ear as she kissed his neck.

"You're fortunate I am a gentleman, for your sake.–Furthermore, I have seen more of you than this."

"Keep going then."

So this was the unrestrained girl who was always kept hidden. Her passion was great; she would certainly make an excellent bed partner. Louis let the back of his hand graze across her breast. It was like the forbidden fruit she was dangling in front of him.

"I dare not."

He wished this was her true desire to be with him, but he knew it was only the wine making her act so. The next time she would be like this would be on her wedding night to some gentleman that was not he. He despised the man, whoever he would be.

"You have gone this far, Louis."

"Just because I knew you could not get out of the gown on your own."

"Liar," Elora said as she kissed him. "What if I said I wanted to make love to you right now?" She kissed him again. "Haven't you always wanted this?"

"Nay, not _this_ way." He could not believe what he was doing; more like not doing. It was just yesterday she was insisting she would never sleep with him and now she was practically throwing him down on the bed.

"This maybe your only chance, Louis."

"_Maybe_," he said in a superior tone.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in sudden anger, pushing him toward the door and actually out of the room. She closed the door in his face without saying goodnight or anything else to him.

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Morning came in conjunction with a hangover. Elora could barely lift her head out of bed. She could only remember parts of the night before, but just those small bits were enough to embarrass her. She spoke with no inhibitions, which is the worst thing to do around a boyfriend you have no intention of having sex with. Now he would have the advantage over her knowing that she was seducible. There was only one solution, she could never face Louis again.

Well, beyond her control she was going to face him that afternoon. He summoned her to take a walk with him, as he always did after she did not show up in the gardens by one thirty. She was fully expecting some sort of rebuke from him. The noble ladies were not supposed to get drunk.

She remembered only now, one evening Thérèse had chided her for drinking too much. She said it was not dignified for women to act maudlin, which was all that came from drinking in excess. Elora had never seen Louis drunk, nor heard tittle-tattle of it; even though he usually drank at least three glasses of wine with each meal. Sometimes after dinner he would move on to the brandy with the gentlemen and still he would not act drunk.

She was supposed to be a proper adult here at Versailles. She was in a serious relationship, as she had so fervently imposed on Louis, yet she had to let herself go and got herself drunk in front of him. He surely must have lost all respect for her.

The news about Chris had hit her hard, like a soccer ball to the head. She questioned whether she was jealous of this girl, whom she had never met. Why should she care though? She never wanted Chris' love nor accepted it when he offered his. He was not hers to do with what she wanted. Their friendship was ruined and it ricocheted to Cesaire and Thérèse, making it very awkward to hang with them too.

Louis really should not have been blamed in approving of the intended marriage; it was Chris' choice after all, but that did not particularly mean things would be better with her friends now. And if Chris did not really love that girl then there was no telling whether he would still continue to press her. She hoped Louis was wrong about the situation.

It was a hot, sunny afternoon and the garden was swarming with courtiers enjoying the summer weather. Louis was wearing the hat she gave him again today. She never saw him wear any apparel so often. At their greeting Louis smiled at her, not eluding to last night at all. Now she questioned whether the events of last night had even happened. Perhaps it had been dream. They walked through the flower-encrusted gardens at a slow pace.

"Louis, about last night, I did and said some pretty stupid things. I'm very ashamed of my behavior. It was not fair to you. I just want to make sure you didn't get the wrong idea."

He replied that her display had not been stupid at all, simply heartfelt and alcohol-induced. He acknowledged that she was not herself and promised to forget it happened.

Louis shifted his eyes towards her without turning his head and spoke in a low voice, "Last night was more of an awakening for me. I was more surprised by my behavior than by yours. Not taking advantage of your weakened state and leaving the room of my own free will, even though I was aching with desire to possess you was certainly different conduct for me.–You spoke to me of your world, I love it when you speak of your happy memories. I care so much for, yet I never ask about your past. I know you told me of all the social changes and inventions, but you never touched on much of anything close to you. Tell me everything. I want to know every fiber of your being."

Elora was impressed with his desire to learn more than he already knew about her. Her father was a construction worker and her mother was a nurse. Her grandmother had lived with them since her husband died two years after she was born. She felt like she had to emphasize to him just because both her parents work they were not poor, but with owning a nice house and raising three kids they were not rich either. Her dad got along better with the boys, than she. When at home, she spent most of her time with her mother and grandmother in the living room.

"I miss them all so much. I was seeing them little as it was while living on the college campus. I don't think I could bare never seeing them again."

Louis put an arm around her. "Shhh," he said gently, "I did not intend to upset you. I am sure everything will turn out well."

Elora sniffled. "I'm sure you're right." She looked at him as he held her in his arms and like magic they kissed. She was certain not a single eye in the gardens missed it.

"I love you," King Louis said in a tender voice.

Elora pulled back slightly, still remaining within his embrace. "You shouldn't say those words casually. Do you really mean it?"

He pulled her closer to him. His hand gently rubbed the back of her neck in a seductive manner. "I do love you."

"I believe you." She caressed his cheek and standing on her tiptoes kissed him. It was a soft and brief kiss, but it still took her breath away.

"You have saved my life, Elora."

"Any doctor could have done the same, Louis."

"I did not mean from the sickness." His eyes glazed over. "You saved me from an eternity of unhappiness. I know now what love is because of you."

Elora did not know how to reply. It was an awkward moment, where she needed to say the right thing. "Louis, I care very deeply for you. We have been through a lot and you have been so good to me, but…"

"But you do not love me."

She could hear the pain and disappointment in his voice. He said it as if he expected such a reply, as if he was used to people not loving him his whole life. Her only reply was, "I will never lie to you, Louis. I care for you very much and I feel like I'm beginning to fall in love."

He smiled, probably taking her words for more than she meant them to be taken. She wanted him to have hope. She was so happy he loved her and in some ways did not fully understand why such a totally awesome guy like Louis would love her. They were very different people after all and she was always giving him reasons to dislike her.

It was odd whenever she was around Louis she felt complete. Everything about him made her want to give her heart to him forever. She had been hurt before though. She had not really been in love with Rob, especially the night she broke up with him, but his betrayal had cut a deep wound in her. She was terrified that Louis would just be another Rob. Her heart could not withstand being broken again.

At that point sherealized that she was truly in love, but she would not tell him yet. She wanted to be absolutely certain those smooth words of his were true confessions. This was still just the beginning of their relationship. She never dreamed when first meeting Louis that she could ever love him. She had changed so much since then; he had changed so much.

As they walked past the Fountain of Spring she eyed Christophe crossing their path in the distance. Louis saw whom she was obviously staring at.

"I have to go talk to him."

"You have to?"

"Louis, please."

"Not all things broken can be fixed again. You may piece it together, but it will never be the same as it once was."

"I know you're probably right, but before all this happened he and I were good friends. We shared a friendly bond and got along so well together. I have to believe our friendship can be mended."

"Well you better get after him then. He is racing away from here as if the devil were chasing him."

She kissed Louis again with a quick peck on the lips and trailed after Chris to the Grove of the Domes. He was racing at a furious speed. She yelled his name, but he did not turn around. She had to run to catch up with him and really wishing she had her sneakers on at that moment. It would have been much easier without the heeled slippers she presently wore.

"Chris, what are you doing out here alone? Didn't you hear me calling you?–Wait, stop walking for a minute, let me catch my breath."

"Comtesse, it is good to see you so well recovered. You seem your old self again."

"I suppose; I'm back to loving life. –The reason I came to find you was to congratulate you about your intended engagement. Louis told me. I have not met the lady, but if you have chosen her then I am sure she's a wonderful girl."

"Yes, Aimée is a darling. I will introduce you tonight at dinner."

"Wonderful!–How did you meet the Viscomtesse de Chevalier? Have you known her for long?"

"I met her a few months before you came to court as the king's ward. Speaking of the king, I have noted you are still his mistress. I am sure this time it is real and you will admit to call it what it is. I saw your blatant display just now when you were with him."

Elora looked up at him now. She now realized everything going on in Chris' mind. "It began just a week ago. After the miscarriage I was sure Louis would end the farce, but our feelings changed toward each other and suddenly the lie became truth. I never imagined I could love him, but now I'm realizing I must have loved him all along."

Chris made no reply; he only looked to the horizon sadly.

"You are not in love with her, are you?" She went to touch his arm, but he drew away.

"You gave up the right to ask me that when you refused to marry me. You gave me up for the king. May I not have someone also or do you want me to be alone, pining after you all my life, while you have your little affair with the king?"

"I cannot be your wife, but I am still your friend. I only want the best for you and I was never the best one for you. I hope this young lady you are planning to propose to is the one for you. I just sense you are entering into such a commitment for the wrong reasons. So answer the question."

"You are the only woman I will ever love." He still would not turn to look at her.

She closed her eyes wishing he had not said that. "Oh Chris, please don't begin that again. Why are you marrying her if you don't love her?"

"It seems I'll never get you to love me. What does it matter who or when I marry? They are all the same to me. You were the only one who stood out. You are the only one who would dare say no."

"I know it's not my place to advise you, especially considering our history. Someday another girl will come along who will stand out to you as I have. I know I'm _different_, but you're being too hasty with this. You're only hurting yourself. If you purposely choose the wrong girl, you could be unhappy for the rest of your life. You don't want that for yourself and I don't want that for you either. Chris, search your heart. If you feel you can be happy with this girl all your life, then marry her. But if there is a doubt, for the sake of common sense, break it off or at least slow it down. You're being unfair to yourself and to her. I'm sure she would not want a husband who could never love her for being herself. It doesn't matter how simple she is…all women want love."

"Elora Roux, you are the most exasperating woman." He waved his arms in the air. "You admit this is not your affair, but you still press on to give unwanted advice."

"You know me," she smiled briefly. "I always have to put my two cents in while standing on my metaphorical soap box."

She was so glad to finally get a smile out of him. There was a brief moment where they both seemed to reminisce about their past memories together. "So you are in love."

"Yes, I think so, but you don't really want to hear this."

"His Majesty will not be pleased to find you speaking with me unchaperoned."

"He does not mind. He forgives my mediocre court etiquette all the time."

"Be careful, Elora. There may come a time when he will not forgive."

"He loves me, no matter what he will forgive me. That's the catch in regards to true love."

"I suppose there is truth in that."

"I know there is." She sat on the balustrades surrounding the fountain in the small grove, but Chris did not join her. He was too refined to sit his rear on anyplace not designed for sitting.

"Therefore I must forgive you?"

"I know I've hurt you and I seem to continue to. I wish we could start again, before all the tears and angry words. I think about us sometimes; what it would have been like if things turned out differently. I wish I had been able to make you happy. All I can offer you now is friendship. I know things cannot be as they were, but with time perhaps our seeing each other will not be so painful." She held out her hand for his. "Can there be a truce between us?"

He took a moment, as he crossed his arms to him chest. She knew she was asking a lot from this man. He was suffering greatly, but she could only be there to help him move on and continue living his life. God did not put her in this world to tear a man to pieces and leave him a wreck. He needed to go and do all the things God meant for him to do in his life, without her in it.

Chris finally began to outstretch his hand and she took it before he had a second thought.

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She and Cesaire sat in between Christophe and Elora at dinner. To Elora's left sat the king, who she was constantly whispering to throughout the meal. Christophe's jealous stare was incessant. Thérèse wished her brother would stop torturing himself further by watching Elora. At every attempt she or Cesaire made at beginning a jovial conversation with him failed. His mind would only focus on his heart's desire.

He did not even invite the Viscomtesse de Chevalier to sit with them, as he had for every night's meal lately. He was supposed to speak with her tonight about marriage. Something had changed though. His interest was no longer on the Viscomtesse.

Christophe's unhappiness was not Elora's fault, but in certain moments her love for her brother made her feel it was indeed her fault. If Elora would have merely given him the chance a duc deserves, she may have learned to love him. Though Thérèse knew it was wrong to let her mind drift in that direction.

His state had been poor when she merely refused his suit, but now since Elora was truly the king's mistress the brother she loved was shattered. Perhaps it was the fact she chose the king over him or perhaps he did have a broken heart, but it made no difference. His attitude was distressing everyone. Her own Cesaire shifted uncomfortably whenever Elora was in close proximity to Christophe. He did not like the idea of having to choose sides between his friends.

She knew Christophe had only become reacquainted with the Viscomtesse to spite Elora. She wished this new attraction to the lady was his attempt to move on, but discerning from his stare tonight she knew that was not the case. It was going to be a mistake if he married the Viscomtesse de Chevalier, but perhaps he would learn to love her and forget about Elora.

When they returned to their adjoining chambers Thérèse heard from her brother's lips, "Sister, I am going home in the morning. Mother will come in a few days to stay with you. I need to escape court, for a time. It was wrong of me to return so soon."

"But what about the Viscomtesse de Chevalier? Only three days ago you were fervently decided to marry her."

"I sent her a letter breaking things off with her this afternoon. She was very understanding."

"I am glad. You would have been unhappy, I think."

"I am unhappy now, Thérèse."

She went to him and embraced him. "I'm sorry. I will pray for you, Christophe."

Well that was that, thought she. What had made him change his mind so suddenly? She knew the answer; it must have been one of Elora's stirring speeches. She had seen her chase after Christophe today. Elora seemed the only one who could touch his mind with reason. Everything she said he listened to. Thérèse only wished Elora would have fallen in love with Christophe rather than the king.

Thérèse could barely understand Louis and Elora's relationship. They were openly in love, yet Elora vowed she had not gone to his bed. This had never been heard of with King Louis or any king for that matter. How much farther could their relationship progress before it became of a carnal nature? It was not as if the king could ever have her as anything more than his mistress. Elora was in love with King Louis and she feared Elora's heart would soon break. He would either fall in love with another lady and lose interest in her or he would eventually marry a princess and Elora would be was his life-long mistress. Thérèse knew her friend by now, Elora would never settle for anything but love and marriage. She was convinced this romance of star-crossed lovers could only end in tragedy.

**Dear Readers, **

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 20 of The Celestial City. Perhaps I went a little wild with this chapter, but I had fun with it! **

**I really appreciate feedback, so please leave me a review to let me know what you think! **

**L.B. Tempia**


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Every night for the past week Louis entertained Elora with a series of concerts, plays, and operas. He had delayed on such events because of the lovely spring and summer weather he enjoyed. Since it was nearly autumn his taste for evening entertainment had changed. Only the best of the best entertainers in the world played at the Versailles. Monsieur Jean Baptiste Moliére wrote several plays particularly to be performed at Versailles for the king. Tonight they were going to see the performance of _The Flying Doctor_, which was Moliére's first play he had written many years ago. Louis had not even seen it performed before.

Tonight they went to the opera house at the end of the north wing to see the play. Louis had his garments made to match her gold and azure gown, which pleased him greatly to show off. Every night his servant came to ask Suzanne what color Elora would be wearing. If he could not have a matching color then he would at least have a complimentary one. Appearances meant so much to him, so she did not criticize.

He was almost giddy tonight, not about their attire, but about the play. He really enjoyed Monsieur Moliére's works. He voiced his regrets more than once for not renewing the theatrical performances at Versailles before now.

Louis' excitement was making her quite excited as well. Elora was more excited to meet Monsieur Moliére than to see his play. He was like the Shakespeare of the 17th century. She wondered if he had any idea how timeless and beloved his plays would become over the years. He was a satirical genius who spoke humor as well as writing it. Though he had a mustache he was very cute. His behavior did seem slightly forced; like if Louis were not a king Monsieur Moliére would never give him the time of day. She saw this same behavior often with courtiers, never sure if Louis saw through them or not.

They took their seats on an area of the balcony closest to the stage. The play was about to begin when she noticed how far away from Louis she was. She wanted to be a little closer to him while they watched. It would be the closest thing she and Louis had to ever going out to the movies. So, very discreetly, with probably half the courtiers in attendance actually noticing, she picked the armchair up beneath her and quietly nudged over until she was arm and arm with Louis. She was used to his smile and brief shaking of the head when she did something scandalous that amused him.

When they raised the curtain everyone clapped. The play-acting was slightly different from what she was used to, but nonetheless entertaining. Flamboyant hand gestures seemed to be popular and the incredibly gaudy costumes and makeup were enough to make the comedy laughable. Louis was enjoying it immensely as well, making it quite obvious with his bellowing laughter. He could not stop laughing whenever the character pretending to be a doctor said his lines.

She was expecting an intermission at some point, there was none. By the last scene her tummy was beginning to get hungry. How Louis sensed this she knew not, it was not as if her stomach was grumbling. He did his renowned index-finger raised, wrist flick. Chocolate-dipped cherries were presented to her on a golden tray. After eating one she reached to Louis' cheek, gently turning his head toward her and gave him a loving kiss on the lips before returning her attention back to the play. He kissed her left hand and seductively caressed it until the play ended.

As entertaining as the play was her favorite part of the night was that it was spent entirely by Louis' side. Her happiness with him was overwhelming. Even the little things about him that used to annoy her she now cherished. He still every now and again said something sexist or condescending, but it did not get under her skin and make her itch to argue or correct him as it once did. Loving his faults as much as his attributes made her consider, perhaps this relationship was the one she had been waiting her whole life to find. God had truly blessed her. He sent her here and made it so Louis was the first person she met; she understood now why they were thrown together. Knowing Louis' love was a gift that inspired her to devotionally spend every spare moment of every day praising God.

As she sat in bed later in the night she wished Louis were there with her. She could hear it beginning to rain outside as she just finished reading _Le Cid_. She fell into sleep before putting out the candles. Beginning to dream, she saw herself in her living room with her family. They were all so happy; they were watching some action movie and snacking on junk food, like a typical Saturday night. There was so much love in the room. Then she faded away from the room like a ghost. It got cold and everyone was sad, even she felt sad though she was no longer there. She woke up in sweats in the dark, for all the candles had burnt out.

Doubts entered her mind about everything she had built here. What would her friends and family think about her getting this serious at nineteen years old? Especially attaching herself with a man who was so much older than her in so many ways. Was time going on in the future without her? Was her family missing her at this moment? Or was the time in the future non-existent? Would God ever take her away from her life here? Away from Louis? She had so many questions and no one to answer them or even give her comfort. She did not want to burden Louis, so there was no one else to tell.

The following day she went back to the opera house since it was empty to get a better look at it in the daylight. She had only been to the opera several times and it had all been within the last week and a half. The room was an acoustic triumph, considering there were no microphones available to amplify the performer's voices.

She came upon the entrance with gold cherubs on the top corners. Since it was a cloudy day the opera was dimly lit. There were four exquisite levels that God Himself must have made. The whole opera was a blue and pink theme. Everything else; the stairs, the stage, the boxes on the fourth level, the balustrades, the railings, and even statues were all of gilded mahogany. Azure carpets lined the floors and gold fleurs-de-lis decorated the walls. The great curtain was azure blue and the columns were pink marble. This opera looked as Elora had imagined of the Phantom's Opera. She twirled around on stage, imagining she was the fair Christine.

_The Phantom of the Opera_ was the first musical her parents ever took her to into the city to see. Her mother had been the one to give her a cd of the musical and her wish had finally come true to see it live. They had left her brothers at home because they were really little then. She remembered holding her mother's hand as they walked into the theatre. She really missed them all; it did not matter how happy she was here. Why could she not have them all; her family and Louis?

Thinking she was alone, she kicked off her shoes and began to dance. She loved the feel of the floor beneath her toes as she glided across it. Spins, turns, leaps, then ended with a perfect pirouette. She did not remember how much she loved ballet, until now. Missing ballet, missing her family, even missing college; her heart became overwhelmed with sorrow.

She had given up ballet for med school. She had often wondered these past two years while pulling all-nighters studying biology and anatomy what her life could have been like if she applied to Julliard and moved to New York to pursue a career in dancing. Her life would be so different. She never would have seen Rob again after graduation and she never would have been raped. If what happened had not happened would she even be here in France right now?

Elora sniffled as she bowed to an imaginary crowd. "Thank you, thank you.–An encore? No, I couldn't possibly. I did not bring my dancing shoes with me. So sorry."

"Well, I demand an encore!" exclaimed Prince Phillipe, coming out of the shadows of the opera.

"Oh!" She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, as the prince began coming towards her. "How…how long have you been watching me?"

"Elora, are you upset with me?–No need to be embarrassed. You dance beautifully. You seem a woman of hidden talents. I had no idea you could dance so."

Phillipe hopped onto the stage next to her. His smooth tone was making her uncomfortable. He had been buzzing about her since she borrowed his books. She looked upon him as a friend, even though she believed he looked upon her as more. Her feelings for him were, for lack of a better word, void. As charming as he was, she knew the most they would ever be was friends.

"Ballet is poetry in motion. Using only movement, one can tell a story without ever needing to say a word. I am not at my best though. I do not practice as often now that I'm at Versailles. If you could see me in costume with a partner, with music moving us, and especially with proper shoes I could dazzle."

Phillipe moved even closer to her, silent for a few seconds. His debonair smile changed into an intense gaze. She had a bad feeling about this.

"I could not help but notice your tears. Who are you grieving? Your family?" She made no answer. "My brother told me of their unfortunate deaths. Your parents and your brothers all at once must have been very hard to bear."

"My grandmother too. Everyone I loved is gone. I'm still dealing with the hurt. I suppose I still have hope."

"Hope of what? They are all with God, are they not?"

Oops, she slipped up again. This guy got her really loose lipped and she could not understand why. He must have been a lawyer in another life. "Well, yes they are. I just sometimes wish one morning I will wake up and they will be here. I'll always remember them; that's the problem."

"Both of my parents have gone to heaven many years ago and I still mourn them. There is nothing to be done. You will always remember. Special moments in one's life are never forgotten." Philippe circled around her and stopped with his mouth to her ear. She could feel his breath against her face. He whispered, "For instance, I will always remember you this way here today. I will remember your sweet temperament; a face of Aphrodite, a soul of a saint. I will remember how your dress fits over your curves." He brought his hands up and down her waist. "The way your glowing hair falls upon your bare shoulders." She was falling quickly into his trap. Why did she choose to wear an off the shoulder dress today?

She drew a sharp breath. "You know Louis and I are…"

Philippe placed a single finger over her mouth. "Forget about Louis."

He immediately pressed his lips to hers, but she pushed him off her and stumbled backwards. "Philippe, I won't do this to Louis."

He turned his head away with fury in his eyes. "My brother trusts and loves no one. He may appear the faithful lover now, but assure you a licentious man such as Louis does not change."

First picking up her shoes, she started walking off stage. "It's not just about Louis. I don't want you to kiss me. I don't even want to you think of me that way. I'm in love with someone else…your brother."

He stopped her, kissed her hand and bowed. "Philippe, I don't know your motives for doing this, but you better stop or I'll tell Louis."

"There was no motive behind that kiss." His arms dropped down to his side in frustration. "I care for you, you were looking very beautiful, you had the aroma of a summer morning, your heart was heavy; all of which compelled me to kiss you. I may not know you as well as some, but we have time for that. If you would only open up to me. If you would only take the chance to get to know me."

"That was nice of you, but still inappropriate. With time we will get to know each other better, but not if you keep doing and saying things like that. Please let's keep our friendship on a platonic level because my heart belongs to another."

"You leave me no choice."

"Friends?" She held out her hand and he shook it.

"Yes," he said finally and she hoped it was sincere.

She nodded her head and ran to her room.

Seeing Louis two other times that day she was unable to admit to him what had happened in the opera. Being honest with him was the right thing to do, but she knew it would only cause him grief. She knew he would never doubt her affection for him, but perhaps he would lash out at Philippe. Those two were teetering between civility for the public's sake and total abhorrence for one another. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their love for France.

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King Louis summoned Colbert to his council room. He had decided on the day of the Roux Ball the extra grain being held for the soldiers was to be distributed to the poor of Versailles. It was to be announced as a gift from the king in honor of the Comtesse de Valréas. Le Tellier already knew, but it was Colbert who posed the greatest opposition. He knew Colbert would not be pleased, which is why he chose to tell him in the private before he announced it to his entire council.

Colbert was shocked to such extreme he was speechless for at least a minute. "This is not like the king I knew. Can you not see that she has turned your head? You cannot be weak and fruitfully rule a country."

"Elora has not altered my judgment in ruling my kingdom. The only reason you have the notion I am weak is because I do not dally with scores of ladies any longer."

"I am pleased you are not going through as many mistresses as your have been accustomed to. I am even more pleased this mistress, however unsuitable as she is, has not put the crown into dept with vain luxuries. I am most displeased with the tongue of this girl. Her words stir people, which is a dangerous talent she possesses. She refused a betrothal to the Duc de Chartres to become your mistress. This worries me further. We must be cautious of her motives and wary of her ambitions. You listen to her counsel too often. She influences you more than I am comfortable with."

"Elora has no material ambitions, I assure you. Colbert, stop this paranoia. There is no conspiracy against the crown. I am in love, can you not be just as joyful as I?"

"Your Majesty, one of us must be the rational one through this. I will continue to keep your best interest in mind. You must allow me to be this way.–I do not like to remind you so often of things, but have you forgotten about the treaty with Austria? That should be a priority in your mind. You know what is at stake. Elora Roux is known to have a liberal mind, but I do not believe she will be understanding of this. Have you told your beloved mistress of the treaty yet?"

Louis hated this treaty. It was all Colbert's idea. At first it had seemed a tolerable idea, but now, oh no. He had not thought about it in months and wished Colbert had not brought it up today. He was running out of time. He was going to lose Elora, it was only time.

"No and there is no reason for Elora to find out. Am I being clear?"

"Yes, Your Majesty.–Whatever happened to my king's audacity the last time we spoke of Elora Roux? She seems to have conquered you after all."

Colbert picked up a lock of red hair tied with a purple ribbon from his desk, holding it up to his as proof. He snatched the curly lock from him; his anger was not masked.

"If she has, it is not your place to make me look a fool!"

"I apologize, Your Majesty. My tongue rattles on insolently.–But if you do not mind me saying, I think this girl believes herself to be the equal of a man."

"Oh no, not equal of a man.–Elora believes herself the equal of a king." He stared intently, smiling as he twirled Elora's hair in his hand. She had cut it for him just the other day upon his request. He wanted a reminder of her with him always.

Colbert could only nod. "My king there is something I must tell you. I beg you forgive me for not telling you immediately yesterday."

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Louis summoned Elora to the Council Room in the early morning after speaking with Colbert. He could not go on with the day without seeing her. His insides burned as he waited for the knock at the door.

The knock finally came. She casually walked in wearing a beguiling red silk gown. Her straight hair was not yet done up and hung loosely down her back. He must have woken her with his summons. There was no mark of treachery on her. Her heart was guiltless. She was a stranger to him. His fixed glare stopped her at the doorway.

"Louis, are you all right? I never see you in the morning. You look so pale. Are you sick?"

She began to approach him, but Colbert came from behind, pulling her to a halt. She was obviously startled, having not seen him standing in the corner when she entered.

"You shall not approach His Majesty unless he bids you to do so. You have disgraced and humiliated him enough!" Colbert shrieked. "Get on your knees and beg for his mercy!" He pushed her down by the shoulders, but she resisted.

"Don't touch me!" Elora shrieked back at him. "I kneel for no king! But if Louis wants me to kneel he has only to ask."

They both looked to him. How sassy she was even now. He nodded his head and she willingly kneeled. Disappointment was written all over her face.

"Now that I've done what you wanted will you please tell what the hell is going on? Have I done something wrong? Why is he here?" She pointed to Colbert.

"Here stands your accuser, Elora. I would like to hear your defense."

"How can I defend myself if I don't know what he's blaming me for? You're humiliating me by making me kneel. Now tell me what this is about!"

"How dare you make demands and raise your voice to His Majesty! There is no use lying. I know what you have done! You have succumbed to clandestine encounters with the prince and given yourself to him."

"What…with Philippe?"

His name popped out with a chuckle. Her hand flew to her chest as she breathed a relieved sigh. She stood with a smile on her face. He thanked God she had an explanation, but he only hoped it was a truthful one.

No longer capable of kneeling any longer, she stood. "Colbert, what would make you think I've had sex with Philippe?" she laughed.

Louis still did not find this as humorous as she did. He knew neither of these two, who he trusted greatly would lie to him. Yet Colbert despised Elora and Elora was overly friendly with Philippe, both equal motivators to lie.

"You do not seem to understand how treasonous this offense to the king is. I saw you both in the opera house," Colbert's eyes bulged."Kissing!"

"Someone ought to explain the facts of life to you again. You're obviously quite naïve about making love if you think a kiss automatically means I've had sex with Philippe." She turned to him, rolling her eyes. No longer bothering with Colbert, she looked to him with a certain stare saying, "Anyhow, he kissed me!"

"See, Your Majesty, she admits to it! She is a whore."

Elora temper flared at that insult. "Listen here, asshole! Maybe if you had stayed a bit longer while you were spying on me you would have seen that after that _split-second_ kiss I not only pushed him away, but I also made it very clear to him that I have no interest in him and I'm in a steady relationship with Louis." She picked up her skirts and stomped up to Colbert's face. "And you know what, I don't care what you think you saw or what you think about me. Whatever's happened is none of your business. Stop looking for trouble!"

In one swift move Colbert struck her right across the face with the back of his hand. It was such a blow, taken with such surprise, it knocked her to the ground. The back of her head slammed into the side of a nearby chair. Her eyes closed for a moment, looking as if she might pass out.

"How dare you talk back to me, you wench? You are just a common, sinful woman."

As Colbert was about to kick her she rolled away, curling into a ball. "Noooooo!" she shrieked.

Louis stepped between them. "That is enough, Colbert!"

He should have seen such an outburst as this occurring. Elora and Colbert had such extremely differing temperaments they should never be in close range of one another. The man simply could not keep his temper in check and Elora would never understand her place as a woman here.

"You are treading on thin ice, Colbert. A man of _honor _does not strike a woman. Especially a woman in the king's favor."

"She does not know her place." Colbert crossed his arms, still looking very angry, but not attempting to assault her again.

"It is not _your_ place to teach her. I have always wanted Elora to speak her mind. I do not believe the accusations you have against her. She would never consciously shame me; particularly with Philippe.–Now leave my chateau at once until I send for you."

Once Colbert was out of sight and the door was slammed shut Elora began to quietly weep and would not stop. He fell to his knees to calm her. He stroked her arm, but she shuttered at his touch. He should have pacified Colbert sooner. He had just stood by waiting until he physically attacked Elora before he stepped in. What must she be thinking at this moment? He could lose her from this.

He hurried to the door and sent for the physician. When he returned to her she had sat herself up in the chair. Her hand was pressed to her head, while the other hand wiped the blood off her cheek, making a smear of blood across her face. Colbert's ring must have cut her a bit just below the eye.

"I promise, that will never happen again. Do not cry, my love." He gave her his silk handkerchief.

"Louis, I'm so sorry I was not the first to tell you."

"You are forgiven as long as you forgive me." He kneeled at her feet, resting his head on her lap.

"For what?"

"For not putting a stop to this the moment Colbert told me of it. I understand why Philippe is amorous of you. Who could resist your beauty and your spirit? The Duc de Chartres saw in you what we have both seen. But now you are mine, so it is not only your responsibility to ward off men, but mine too. All I ask of you is what you have asked of me…faithfulness." He took her hand in his, kissing her palm and the tips of each finger.

He moved her hand away from her reddened cheek and lightly touched it. She would certainly bruise from this. His fury fled toward his trusted advisor, Colbert. He would pay dearly for this.

"Louis, I didn't want him to kiss me. He forced it on me. One minute I was alone and the next he was beside me on the stage. He took unfair advantage of a moment where I was caught up in grief. It was wrong of me to stay there letting him speak to me the way he did. I have no excuse for that. When he forced that kiss on me I swear I didn't kiss him back. I had already pushed him off me so quick before he had a chance to make of moment of it. I almost decked him and I would have if he had persisted."

"I believe you. I almost wish you would have struck him. He deserved it. Nothing amuses my brother more than trying to take what's mine."

"So he has done this before?"

"Not with a woman.–You must have heard the stories about it by now…it happened five years ago. Philippe allied with the Huguenots, filled the streets with propaganda, and threatened to overthrow me. My council concealed the matter as much as possible, but the people still knew. What he has done with you is worse, by far."

"So you think he likes me just because I'm something of yours he would like to take?–You know, I think you two have a lot of unresolved issues from childhood. I wish there were therapists here to straighten you out."

"I need you not to be alone with him again and keep conversation to a minimum while in public."

"Louis, you don't have to trust him. You have plenty of reasons not to and from some of the things I've heard him say, reading between the lines, I think he is still not to be entirely trusted. I have to say though, we all live in the same house. We can't avoid each other. Philippe has always been kind to me and I'm sure he would never hurt me. If he hits on me again I'll sock him, but I don't think that will happen. He seems to understand my feelings for you much better now. I enjoy his conversation and his friendship. I will not stop talking with him, but I will avoid being alone with him without a chaperone present."

"I appreciate that at least. I understand your reasons for trying to downplay this and move on, but I cannot just yet. Understand my reasons why I must speak with Philippe about this today."

"I thought you would say that. Try not to be too hard on him. I think he is trying to be a good person and a good brother. I'd like to still have him as a friend after this is settled."

Doctor Dubuque entered just then. He said no word, but looked to him after glancing at the condition of Elora's face. She smiled. This was an awkward situation.

"Do not worry, Doctor. This was not His Majesty's handy-work. It was just a misunderstanding between another courtier and myself."

He approached, pulling certain things from his medicine bag. He wiped clean the scratch, which had by now ceased bleeding. He was most concerned with the bump on her head. It had grown quite large and was very tender. He sent for a cold compress immediately. The doctor assured him she would be fine.

"Now that I'm patched up I'd like to go back to my room and lie down. My head is aching."

"I will accompany you."

He wanted to carry her, but she insisted on walking. She took his hand and wrapped it around her waist as they walked. He held her tightly feeling very protective of his injured love. She sat on her bed with him beside her.

"Elora, did he really kiss you?"

"Yes, but I felt nothing. It was nothing to what I feel when _you_ kiss me."

"What is that?" he asked in a whisper.

"When you kiss me it's like there is only the two of us. That I have nothing to fear nor want, as long as we're together." She wrapped her arms about him and softly kissed him on the mouth. "It feels like we're in heaven."

"I do so wish I could have prevented Colbert from striking out at you. You do know I would never have any harm come to you, no matter the circumstance.–I gladly would have taken the blow."

"I know, Louis." She reached her hand out and touched his cheek gently. In a soft, whispered sigh she said, "I love you, you know."

Louis was not sure he heard correctly. He looked at her unsurely for a moment, but then she smiled shyly and he knew he had heard her correctly. He kissed her in all his excitement. They laughed a bit as they embraced. Many women had said they loved him, but Elora was the only one whose feelings ever meant anything. This was not lighthearted love, this was true, lifelong love.

"Say it once again."

"I have lost my heart to you, Louis.–I'm hopelessly in love with you. Oh, so very in love.–I've known for a while, but I was waiting for the right moment to tell you."

He gently glided her down on the bed, sweetly smothering her with kisses. His hands moved over her. He could sense her body begin heating up, responding to his desire. He pressed her closer to him and by accident his hand moved across the bump on her head.

She gasped slightly from the apparent pain he must have caused her. She pulled her mouth away from his, obviously realizing where this moment was leading. "Louis, I can't do this. Please get off me."

He immediately moved beside her, honoring her decision. He did not want her thoughts to move to the night she was raped. "I apologize, I became carried away in emotion." Seeing her tousled hair and touching her soft skin further excited him, even as he apologized.

"That's sweet, but it would be wrong if we went on. I know it's a cliché, but I want to wait until I'm married. I love you, but sex is a big deal and I've only ever wanted to share that part of myself with one person."

But did she not want that one person to be him? "I understand, my love. That one person should be your husband." His heart hurt with that biting concession. "I will press you no further, even though it is extremely arduous. You are too damned beautiful!"

She made a pleased sigh from his flattering remark.

Only moments later he was called away by his officers. They confessed their love for each other once again and kissed one last time before he left her bedchamber. He had forgotten he was supposed to meet with the Ambassador from Algiers today. He believed it was about some trade agreement. The man was very odd. He was not Christian and had a very queer heathen name. He refused to live at his beautiful Versailles chateau as was custom with all ambassadors, rather he insisted on keeping house in Paris. His defense was his customs and traditions forbid him to take house in a Christian's home. Louis quickly bid his beloved mistress goodbye and went back to his chambers to meet with the ambassador.


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

Louis had left her to rest, but she feared she could do nothing of the sort. Even though she had just shared a wonderful moment with her dearest love her heart was still pounding from Colbert's assault. The pounding could in some part be from the intimacy she just shared with Louis too. Either way, a nap was impossible the way she was feeling and probably the worst thing she could do after a head injury.

She had never come so close to sex with Louis. She very much wanted to make love to him and was finding it more and more difficult to turn him away. She feared what she would do the next time they were alone in that situation.

She had become more certain of his love the moment he stopped when she asked him to. His turquoise eyes had such concern, she could not mistake it for anything other than love. Louis had been a sex-manic since puberty, yet had never really pushed her. She was so proud of him.

Suzanne mentioned the other night her concerns for her. The girl thought she was getting too involved with the king. Her heart would only be broken in the end.

Elora knew she was right. Where was their relationship to go from here? They already knew everything about each other. They were both deeply in love. All she could offer Louis was companionship. She would not have sex before marriage, which clearly meant that she would never be having sex with Louis, ever. He would have to marry a princess someday whether he still loved her or not. She would not be able to bear that.

They were soul mates since the beginning. If they were in her time instead of this backward time she would certainly marry him tomorrow. That was not only ridiculous, but also absolutely impossible here in this time. She wished he were just a regular man. He could not be both a king and her own. She could not stop herself from loving him though.

What a tangle they had gotten into. It was remarkable how love and pain could come simultaneously; how she could be so happy with what she has and yet so sad that what she has is all she ever can have. She would pray on it, hoping God would give her peace.

She pressed the cold compress to her head, reminded of Colbert. Who knew what terrible ideas he could be putting into Louis' head about her. Colbert had already given him at least one reason not to trust her.

Colbert's attack was something that had been coming for months. He hated her from the first day and without any provocation. She may have been cheeky to him a few times, but that gave him no excuse to hit her. If Louis had not been in the room to stop him he might have beat her to a pulp. Colbert was someone she would have to be very careful around from now on. He could be capable of anything. His temper was more violent than she had imagined it could be. She had seen that same anger in Rob as he raped her.

She did not know why she let Colbert get her so upset. She should have just gone over to Louis and explained herself. If she had been beside Louis instead of getting up in Colbert's face he never would have hit her.

She could see it so clearly now. Instead of turning her eyes from him to Louis she would have seen him raising his hand to strike her. She could have grabbed his hand before it got close to her or done a knee-to-groin kick or broken his nose. The gold ring hurt more than his bony hand did. He really just missed her eye.

How she lost her balance still puzzled her. That damned armchair had to be right behind her too. She saw stars when she banged her head. All in what seemed like an instant, as Colbert towered over her she was back in Rob's bedroom. The way she hit the back of her head, just before being further attacked was just how it went that night with Rob.

She crumbled seeing Rob, not Colbert, about to kick her. She really saw Rob, like he was really there in the room. The terror she felt was unparalleled, even though she knew it had to be a hallucination. She could not move or defend herself. She was weak, just another girl of this century, the kind who was defenseless against a man.

Her insides now burned with defiance. She refused to be placed in that category of women. She had to do something now, anything to release that feeling of helplessness. She did not want to talk about it; she wanted to move. She got out of bed and rushed to her trunk. Everything she had from the future was locked in there. She began to strip herself of her gown until she was naked. While dressed in that sort of clothes she looked like a dainty, demure little lady. She had worn that stuff for so long she had grown as weak as she looked. She despised herself. She dressed in her pants and a tank top and her sneakers; how she missed wearing them. She threw a dress on over her, not bothering to lace it up or adjust it.

She left her room and moved furiously downstairs and outside. The king's garden was the only refuge that came to mind. Every courtier to ever attend court seemed to be out in the gardens today.

Behind the coverage of the enclosed garden she pulled off that silly dress and began to run along the path. She ran till she was sweating through her clothes and could no longer breathe. She fell into the grass and cried hysterically. She loved Louis so much, but really hated this world at that moment.

"Lady Elora," came the familiar voice of Captain d'Artagnan. "What distresses you?"

"Oh Captain, why do some men feel that the only way to win is to hit a woman?"

"Those sort of men are fearful beings, my dear. When a woman does not act as he thinks she should, whether he is insulted or intimidated or demeaned; if he feels he loses control of the weaker sex he is fixed to use violence. He takes advantage of his greater size and strength to remind a woman exactly how she should be.–Who has done this to you?"

"Why, will you go punch his lights out? You couldn't even if you wanted to. Colbert did it when I let my guard down.–Captain, can I come with you to the training yard?"

"Not in that attire."

She sat up, looking over the clothes she wore. "I hate dresses! I haven't told anyone that, except King Louis. I wore pants like men at home, just like this." She quickly put the dress back on over her clothes and took the captain's arm.

"How are things between yourself and the king?"

"Excellent. I don't think I could ever be any more in love than I am with him. If I could be with Louis, I would willingly stay the rest of my life in France."

"I know His Majesty loves you most dearly. I am glad to finally see him happy. I have known him well-nigh his whole life and have never seen anyone genuinely touch his heart except you. Is it love that gives you so much freedom?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone at court, courtier and servant alike, does everything they can do, goes out of their way to please the king. I myself have to vie for his attention and pray to stay in his good graces. I worry greatly about my position. His Majesty sometimes does not summon me for weeks at a time.–But you do not care about these things and you have the most insecure position at court. You do not worry?"

"I can't worry about that. I love him too much. I've never had any dependence on the _king's favor_. You've all been brainwashed since birth to believe your life revolves around worshiping the king. I see being at court like being sucked into a vortex and Louis is the center, what everyone is pulled to." She used her hands to better define her meaning. "It's important to remember that he is a part of our lives just as much as we are a part of his.–My life is just as important as his, which is an easy thing to forget at court."

"You speak as if he is not your king."

She took a few seconds to answer, dropping her eyes to the ground, trying to think of the right way to answer him. "Let's just say, he is the king of my heart.–Don't worry about your position, d'Artagnan. He really loves you and knows of your goodness."

"That is comforting to hear.–Lady Elora, you do realize your gown is unlaced."

"I wish I cared, but not after the day I've had.–I was just thinking, you have seen more of me doing unladylike things than most, yet you do not hound me with questions like the rest. Why is that?"

"I trust His Majesty when he says I do not need to know. I am to keep you safe from harm. If bringing up your past will do you harm, then I do not need to know."

"I've never seen such devotion." She leaned into him to kiss his cheek. "I think Louis really has a friend in you. You know, Captain, you are one of my favorites in this place. It is such an honor to know the renowned d'Artagnan. Your name will be marked in history with honor."

"Why do you say such a thing? No one will remember me," he chuckled.

"Oh, don't be so modest, you're with a friend. It's wonderful to be remembered as something great after your dead, but it's even better to be beloved while you are still alive. It shows that people love you for you as a whole, not merely from the bits and pieces you're remembered by."

He did not know how wrong he was! She wished she could tell him more. The word _valor_ would be synonymous with his name, d'Artagnan. It was too bad he would never live to see the day when Alexandre Dumas reads his memoirs and is inspired to write _The Three Musketeers_. d'Artagnan and his guards, the musketeers, will be famous. She was so excited to really know them. She did not know of any Athos, Porthos, and Aramis in his guard though, but maybe those were not their real names.

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On his afternoon walk, Louis was joined by the Ambassador from Algiers, Le Tellier, and his son, Louvois. He had wanted Elora to join them because she had not yet met His Excellency, the Ambassador. When he summoned her it was reported to him she had gone out of doors hours ago for some air and had not yet returned. He was a little concerned, but knowing Elora's free spirit he knew she would be back for dinner.

Louis had been boasting about how well accomplished his guards were, being under the command of such a proficient man as Captain d'Artagnan. It was then the ambassador said he would like to see them. Louis led these gentlemen to review his Royal Guard's training yard upon His Excellency's request. He knew of a perfect position to view the yard without being observed. He tried to send word to d'Artagnan to warn them of their coming, but he recalled he had sent him to investigate a disturbance in the city today.

They walked through the courtyard in the direction of the Guard's Barracks. The men were still at practice; he could hear the swords clinking away in the yard before he even saw them. The training yard soon came into view. They stood on the loggia looking upon the outdoor training area below.

The guard in charge soon called all the men to attention and announced a foot-race to see which man was the fittest. He did not quite see all of the contestants because one was shorter than the rest. Once the shorter man pulled off his hat and tossed over to a bench Louis saw quite clearly who it was. He could not remember what he was talking about, when he stopped in midsentence. It was Elora, dressed as a guard! The gentlemen Louis was with, were at this moment looking on at the scene, but did not seem to notice one of the men below was in fact a woman.

The guards began cheer. She ran at such a fast speed it still amazed him to see it. Elora barely won the race, which would have surprised him more if she had not suffered so much this morning. The men raised her upon the their shoulders honoring her win. There was no formality or awkwardness around her. It was as if they did not know who she was, but that could not be possible.

Captain d'Artagnan had told him of Elora's behavior, but now seeing it with his own eyes he could not help being incensed. She was able to accomplish something that had been forbidden to him his entire life and could never be. Elora was a lady, a comtesse in a noble line, yet she could easily befriend anyone, no matter how low their caste.

She had finally admitted her love for him today, which could not have come at a better time. He would shower her with jewels, lavish her with niceties, but what does she do next? She dresses like a man, running and fighting. Could she possibly act any less feminine? He had put off speaking to her about this, not wanting to be indelicate. Now such a conversation was unavoidable.

He heard a noise of a horse and a door slamming from below. Captain d'Artagnan appeared, bellowing for the men to stand at attention.

Louis saw Elora mimic the guards actions, every movement just a second behind theirs. She appeared as if she were attempting to hold back a smile. They started performing some marching drills, when the captain took notice of Elora's presence among all the men.

"Lieutenant Roux, you are excused!"

Elora quickly exited the area and the rest of the men continued on with their drills. Louis dared to again look at the gentlemen beside him, hoping no one recognized her. Le Tellier and the ambassador were focused on the new weapon allotted to the guards a late. Louvois was too busy fluffing his lace cuffs, as usual taking no initiative in anything important. Elora was safe, at least until he got a moment to speak with her.

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Elora returned to her bedroom still wearing the blue and red guard's uniform and carrying her dress in a rolled up ball. This was the second time she had walked through court in anything less than a comtesse's attire and the courtier's reactions were the same. She was ignored, not even bothered to be noticed of or even glanced at. She would have to hang onto this uniform; it might come in handy someday.

She had a lot of fun today, nearly forgetting the traumatic morning. One minute she had been watching the men practice at the sword the next she asked if she might give it a try. She fully expected d'Artagnan would say no, but he nodded his head with approval. He said he wanted her to learn better defense techniques. There was the choice of the musket, but he preferred the sword.

d'Artagnan had brought her to the dressing quarters allowing her to dress in their uniforms while they practiced. She had to try on several before she found some that fit. He took her next to the weapons master for her to select a sword. d'Artagnan instructed her on how to find one suited for her. The rapier needed to fit in her hand a certain way as she held it; be an appropriate length for her height; and be light enough where she could wield it without difficulty.

She learned many defensive and offensive moves. There was no way she would be allowed to carry a sword around court, but she could probably get away with keeping a dagger of some sort in her room for protection. He worked with her for nearly two hours before calling for Lieutenant Émile Planchet to come forward and continue with her. He had to leave on the king's errand before it got too late, though he said he wished they could continue the rest of the day.

Lieutenant Planchet was quite the dashing guard, though he was nearly twice her age. After describing her assault to the lieutenant he sheathed his sword and insisted they work on hand-to-hand combat from that point on. He showed her some moves that were not covered in her self-defense class as couple of years ago. The Lieutenant had grown up with six brothers and they always wrestled about in their youth, so he knew quite a bit.

Just when she admitted to him she was exhausted, he challenged her to a race against his best man. Turning down a race was impossible to do; she could not resist. Supposedly this guard, François Grimaud had just transferred from Paris and was very fit. When Lieutenant Planchet summoned him she was shocked to see he must have been as young as she and he looked fit. He might actually be a worthy opponent for her. d'Artagnan was still gone, so all the men pulled out the money they had in their pockets and started placing bets.

When the race began he was ahead of her within ten seconds. She had not seen anyone so agile on their feet since a track meet against Boston College last year. She finally caught up to him at the bend and they were nose and nose until the finish line. She won, but just by a hairsbreadth. If they had gone for another lap he would have destroyed her.

She could not remember when she had so much fun racing. She expressed to François that she would love to race him again on another day. It had turned out to be a great day after all.

After taking a bath and snacking on some cheese in lieu of a late lunch it was nearly evening. Elora had not even begun to get ready for tonight. She hurried and rang for Suzanne. She entered the room shaking her head. "Elora Roux, when will you remember your duty?"

"I know, I know. It's late."

Suzanne had just finished lacing up her lavender silk gown when there came a knock at the door. She looked at Suzanne, who looked back at her just as puzzled. Again there was a knock. Louis never came to her door at this time and Thérèse always met her in the dining hall. Who else could be calling?

She slipped on her shoes as Suzanne went to answer it. Philippe walked in before she had put on her second shoe. She did not have time for this!

Elora went to him by the doorway, to keep him from coming into the room any more than he already was. She did not want him to feel particularly welcome here without an invitation. "Philippe, what are you doing here?"

He did not answer her and instead asked Suzanne to leave the room. "Hey!" Elora yelled, taking hold of Suzanne's hand. "She's not going anywhere. Suzanne either hears it now from you or hears it later from me. Besides I'm running late and my hair still isn't done up yet." She pointed to the desk chair by the door. "Stay sitting there and we can talk."

She sat at the vanity, putting on her gloves as Suzanne started to pin up her hair.

"Your face! Louis' doing? I would have expected him to strike out at me, not you. This was entirely my fault I fear."

Elora looked at him through the mirror. He posture was perfect. His style of dress in amber silk, with a richly embroidered waistcoat suited his fair complexion. "It's nothing. It doesn't even hurt anymore. Louis did not do this to me." She lightly put on some rouge and lip stain. "Louis would never raise a finger to me. This was from Colbert. I put him in his place and this was his reply. This is not your fault, well maybe indirectly it is."

"I must admit, when Louis first summoned me I believed the worst from you. I believed myself condemned."

"So what if I had? Don't act like I betrayed you. You were wrong to make a pass at me, knowing I was involved with your brother. It was my intention to eventually tell Louis, but Colbert, the busybody that he is, had already run to him on the matter.–What did Louis say to you? I tried to explain to him that you only misjudged the depth of my affections and now you know better."

"Yes, well he did not seem convinced of such when he addressed me. He made numerous threats, many that he had made before. He does not want me near you."

"Then why are you here?" she asked impatiently. Suzanne had just finished her hair in record time. It was not very fancy, but it would do for tonight.

"I had to see how you fared? Now seeing your injuries, I have no ill will left."

She smiled. At least his coming here was not to make more advances. "That's generous of you." She meant that to be sarcastic, but by looking at him he must have taken her seriously because he solemnly nodded. "Louis said the same to me, but I explained doing that would leave things on a bad note between all of us. I think forgiveness and moving on is best way to proceed. As long as you keep things on a platonic level then we'll be fine. Louis was still bothered a bit, so I agreed under no circumstances to meet with you in private anymore. Though Suzanne is here I still do not feel completely comfortable with this. I do not want to hurt Louis any further. So please go and I'll see you this evening."

"All right. I will take my leave of you now. Just a suggestion, but I would put a bit of powder on that cheek if I were you. The court will be up in arms with gossip if they notice."

"I intend to cover it up.–See you later."

After Philippe left she unlocked her trunk and pulled out her concealer. It covered the bruise fairly well. She was counting on her loose hanging curls and the dimness of the night to conceal it as well. As she was walking out the door Suzanne handed her a velvet wrap.

Sitting with Louis at supper was pleasant, but he seemed distant. He did not speak of anything personal and centered conversation on the special evening's entertainment tonight. She wondered what she had done wrong since morning. At the top of her head she could think of at least three things that could be bothering him.

They were to go outside for a short, two-hour concert in the Rockwork Grove. As they listened to the lovely classical music, they sat beside one another in tense silence. The circular grove was perfectly designed for such an event. It was perfectly executed and had a nice sound, yet she could not recall who composed it or what it was even called, though Louis had mentioned it several times at dinner. She would have enjoyed the performance better if not for the distress she was feeling at the time.

Louis was all smiles for his courtiers when the concert was over though. He had initially wanted a bit of dancing before bed, but announced there would be no dancing tonight. He was going to bed early. That was a first, she thought. So everyone made their way indoors to please their king. Purposely he walked slowly, with her hand firmly tucked under his arm, until the crowds passed and they were alone.

"Out with it, Louis." Her words had a serious edge, but were still soft spoken. "What's bothering you now? Do I have drop to my knees again, at the mercy of a king?"

"I had hoped you would join me this afternoon for my walk. I had wanted to introduce you to someone important. That is all."

"Yes, well, I had to run off some excess emotions I was feeling from the morning."

"You would have enjoyed our walk. We visited the guard's barracks."

She pushed her hair back behind her ear, uncomfortably. "You did? What were they doing?"

"Not what I had estimated they would be doing."

She stopped walking and turned to him. Whether he had seen her there or not she knew she would have to tell him about it. "Louis, I'm not trying to change the subject. We will talk about that, but tell me…do you think I've changed? Do still see me as the girl you met in April? Or am I all comtesse?"

"Elora," he cleared his throat. She had taken him off guard and his hesitation worried her. "Would a comtesse refuse to wear a corset because it cause her discomfort? Would she shorten her nightdresses for the warm summer weather? Would she insult a minister of France? Would she refuse to make love to her king?" His smile began to broaden. "Most importantly, would a comtesse dress as a royal guard to fight and run feverishly about? Certainly not."

She was so pleased with him, before he could even finish his words she pressed herself up against him and kissed him. "I love you so much!"

"My heart nearly stopped when I saw you today." His voice was no longer tense, but friendly again. How was it he was no longer mad at her?

"Was it when I was sword fighting or just running?"

"Captain d'Artagnan is allowing you to wield a sword!" Shock was written all over his face. She had said too much.

"It was just a foil, not even like a real sword. The end wasn't even pointy. He just doesn't want to see me hurt like I was today. He is good man. I figured learning would be a good idea since that seems to be the weapon of choice around here. Émile worked with me a little too."

"Now, who is Émile?"

"Lieutenant Planchet, you don't know him." She shook her head.

"Of course I do not know him and neither should you.–I have been informed you have the loyalty of all the servants at the chateau, which is nothing but appalling. I have given up on trying to help you understand, but they should know better than to encourage you. At least they know their place.–What if someone had seen you? How could I explain such behavior to the gentlemen who were beside me? Word spreads so quickly here. Your reputation–"

"Louis, you know more than anyone, the sacrifices I've had to make and continue to make living in this time. I play your nobility game for as many hours in the day that I can. When it comes down to it, I find I have more in common with the commoners. I know the cooks, the dishwashers, the laundresses, the housekeepers, the gardeners, the royal guards."

"How could you find opportunities to meet them all?"

"I'm not busy running a country like you are. I've got time." She squinted, looking up at the night sky. "I'm not sure I know everyone. I go to the kitchens for midnight snacks sometimes.–I have helped Suzanne fold and carry clean linens.–When I'm out in the early morning for a run the gardeners are everywhere. It would be rude to pass them without saying good morning. I am not friends with them all, but with enough of them."

Louis shook his head. "I should put a stop to this." He began to walk away from her, but she stopped him.

"Please don't, Louis." She took both his hands in hers to focus him. "I lost everybody when I was torn from my home. No one can understand that kind of pain unless they are victims of such a fate themselves. I don't have many friends here, let me keep the ones I have."

"You are friends with everyone you should not be. It is dangerous. They might even influence you to do wrong. They might turn you against me."

"Louis, that's never going to happen. Are we still talking about the servants or Philippe?"

"Well since you mention it–"

She would not let him finish. "I talked to him tonight. He came to my room before supper."

"What!"

"Don't worry. Suzanne was there the whole time and he didn't try anything funny. He was just concerned. It was thoughtful."

"How can you not see past his counterfeit smile and false words?"

"He's been treated as the bad brother for so long I think he needs a friend who will not judge him by his past indiscretions."

"What he did yesterday is not so distant in the past."

"Which is why he will have to try really hard to win back my trust if he wants us to remain friends. I am not ignorant of his character, Louis. I notice he seems to say one thing and mean another. I know he does not like you very much and would probably like nothing more than to be king. I also know there is a genuine kindness in him, very similar to yours. He may think he is unlike you, but I see so many similarities. Brothers are blessings, no matter how much of a pain in ass they are. I know; I had two."

He fixed an out of place curl on her head and then kissed her.

"I promise if he ever tries anything then you can duke it out with him in the courtyard and I will cheer you on, but until then let's try to be civil."

"I love you, Elora."

"I'm lucky you do, Louis. And love you.–Now do you really want to go to bed? Or maybe you want to run off with into one of the secluded gardens for some deserved make-out time."

His sparking smile answered her. Holding hands they found their way to the Colonnade where they had first kissed to continue the tradition.

**Dear Readers, **

**I hope you laughed and cried reading Chapter 22 of The Celestial City. I think this chapter has a little bit of everything. I enjoy writing in d'Artagnan and I love nothing more than to throw Elora into pants as much as I can. **

**I really appreciate feedback, so please leave me a review to let me know what you think! **

**L.B. Tempia**


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Only two hours before the Roux Ball began, Suzanne was busy chasing Elora around the room with a corset. She did not want to wear the darn thing. She had been wearing her bra under her gowns just fine for months. There was no need to put that thing on and be sore for the next three days because of it.

"Elora, stop this fussing! This is a night dedicated to you." Suzanne shouted, not a bit amused by her behavior. "You know this gown was tailored for you while wearing this corset."

She finally stopped running from her, resigning to her fate. She would have to wear it. Elora did not see what the big deal about tonight was. So the night was dedicated to her; it would be just like any other night of dancing and revelry. She had not even been given a choice about what do for festivities this night. Louis had planned everything. It was not her ball, even though it had her name.

She was dressed in a gown of emerald green satin of such a high quality fabric only as she had seen the royal brothers wear. Something was different about this gown though. Before Louis commissioned the dress with couturière he specifically asked her what her favorite color was. More and more she saw the thoughtfulness growing and showing itself from Louis' heart. He was showing unprompted consideration instead of immediately ordering. He was a little too pleased she wanted a green gown. He had not known before then that green was her favorite color, but it was as if he took her choice of color as a sign. As a sign of what she did not know. He would not tell her what he was thinking, even though she begged and bribed him with kisses.

She really did love how the gown turned out. Nothing the fashion industry made in the 21st century had an eighth of the attention to detail and craftsmanship of this one dress. The gown began with an epaulet at the shoulders, followed by fitted three-quarter sleeves, ending with a yoke at the elbow. The sleeves were covered at least ten tiered layers of white lace. Lace was the style; the more you had the richer you were. The particular lace used on this gown was supposedly made by nuns in a cloister somewhere in the French countryside. The detailed lace on the square neckline complimented the underskirt of snow-white satin with golden brocaded flowers.

Even with that the couturière found more ways to decorate this lovely gown. The lace ruff, fanning behind her neck, was lined with tiny emeralds. There was a dangling brooch of emeralds pinned in the center of the neckline, resting right between her breasts. She also had a belt of emeralds, wrapped around her at the waist and hanging down at the center, nearly to the floor. Of course no outfit would be complete without a matching necklace and earrings. This diamond jewelry had been given to her on loan and yes they were real crown jewels.

She had washed her hair earlier with fragrant oils, which made it shine like glass. A quarter of her thick hair was made into one long, thin braid and scalloped around her hairline. The rest of her hair was tied at the top of her head and then molded into dozens of tight, tendril curls. A great mass of gold dust was sprinkled all through her hair. Finally a spray of green and white feathers was positioned at the topside of her head with a large emerald clip.

The makeup Suzanne applied on her was an extravagant Mediterranean vogue. Her eyes were finely lined with a golden liquid. A peculiar type of eye shadow was used for her eyelids called malachite, giving her eyes a lustrous and godly look to them. Her lips were stained with a carmine liquid, which gave off shimmering lights like a soft gloss.

After Suzanne finally finished primping her Elora saw it was not yet time to go meet Louis. She was ready nearly a half-hour early. She asked Suzanne if she would like to sit with her by the fire as she read, but was turned down. Suzanne always insisted there was work to be done somewhere in the chateau. She did not think it was fair to sit and relax when others in the servant's quarters were busy at work.

So off Suzanne went, leaving her alone in her room. She did not make it to the sofa, for when she passed the mirror she halted in awe. She touched her fine jewelry with one hand and the shiny skirt of her gown with the other as she looked into the mirror. This great beauty seemed more like a dream than reality to her. Was she really this pretty or was it this world making her so?

"Elora, your beauty forever surprises me," came Louis' voice.

She looked back to see him standing in the doorway. She had not even heard him come in.

"Louis, I was not expecting you. I thought I was supposed to meet you by your room at ten of seven. Is something the matter?"

"Everything is well. I simply…was impatient to see you.–I wanted to speak with you about something."

He led her to the sofa for them to sit together. She thought he looked nicer than unusual tonight. His attire was not as gaudy as he was accustomed to. He wore a long waistcoat and breaches of pine-green with just a touch of white and gold trimming. His hair was loose and curled with his golden, bejeweled crown sitting atop his fine head. Louis barely ever wore his crown, she did not think this ball was a big to-do, but he must consider it so. "Elora, when was the last time I said I love you?"

She could not stop herself from smiling even if she wanted to. "I think this afternoon on our walk."

"I feel I cannot say it enough.–Elora, an issue of conscience has been plaguing me."

"What is it? Maybe I can help." She touched his cheek, but he moved her hand away rebuffing her gesture. Now he really had her worried.

"I must say this first.–I do not know what would have become of me if you had never come into my life. You sacrificed your entire being for the sake of my health as I supported you through your own trials. We have known each other for only a few months, yet I feel as if we have lived our whole lives together. You have made me feel things I thought I never wanted to feel. I will always cherish our bond."

"That's all very nice, Louis.–But what is your problem."

"It is you."

"What?" She felt a chill. Did her heart fracture from those three little words?

"How it is between us cannot continue. If we proceed in this manner we will fall into sin. Our lives are moving in different paths. Eventually I will be forced to move on and live the rest of my days with another in your stead. Both of our hearts will break and you will leave me." He tried to take her hands in his, but she pulled away, obviously distraught and not caring if she showed it.

"Louis, where is this coming from? You've never talked like this before," she could not keep out of her voice the clenching pain she was feeling. "What are we talking about here? Are we breaking up? Are we to be separated now instead of later?"

He said nothing, but instead he slipped out a small, metallic ball from his coat pocket. She could tell nothing from his face; it was serious but not necessarily solemn. He wordlessly handed the ball to her, as if this was the answer to all her questions. Why could he not just say what he meant by all of this? Why was he dragging this on? Her heart was breaking over a man for the first time. She was about to throw that stupid ball across the room, but then she noticed a glimmer of its brilliant beauty. She examined the ornate sphere made of yellow gold, forgetting for perhaps two or three seconds the misery that was about to befall her.

"What's this some break-up ball you renaissance-men give girls when you break up with them?" The flowered arabesque design was enhanced with raised red and green gold filigree and a ruby inlayed at the center. She loved it, thinking it a 17th century super marble.

Louis shook his head a bit and flipped open the little _fleur-de-le_ latch on the ball. It was a box! Inside, resting on a puff of purple velvet, was a phenomenal emerald ring. The marquis-shaped emerald had to have been at least four carats. Encircling the large stone were triangular mix-matched emeralds and diamonds. The colour of the emerald was mesmerizing, having just a touch of blue as it shined in the candlelight.

She looked up at him, tears about to spill over onto her face. Louis took the ring and held it out to her. "As I said, we cannot continue things as they are. I am simply a man asking you, my dearest love, to be my wife. Would you do me such a great honor?"

Elora breathed a long gasp, her hand flying to cover her gaping mouth. She smiled at him, speechless. She had not predicted that, even when he presented the ring to her. She had thought it was just another gift.

The man she loved proposed to her and it was the best proposal she could ever have imagined. Louis was right about everything. She could not pretend she never imagined marrying him. She was sure every woman who ever loved at one point or another imagined marrying her lover. She had known this relationship was getting serious, but she did not think it was this serious.

What was it with men rushing into marriage in the 1600's? But this was a king's proposal. He must have put in serious thought before asking her. Louis never acted rashly. She knew she was not a princess, yet he was willing to make her his queen. She was not sure she could handle the responsibility of being queen, which would obviously come along with marrying him.

Then she looked over his kingly attire. His lace cravat and sash of gold silk brought back to mind of how he was more than three hundred years older than her. They could never really be together for that reason. Her heart struggled to give him an answer.

"I love you, Louis. Sometimes I love you so much that the thought of being without you terrifies me. I never thought our relationship would lead to this moment. We've never really talked about our future together until now and I'm finding it difficult to speak with a clear head. I've never dared mention such a commitment to you because I knew of your obligations.–I want this so much, but we're not in a position where we can just get married. I am not even from this world. This time, 1662, is not mine. I would not just be your wife; I would be a queen. I could never pull that off. I'm barely getting by as an impecunious comtesse.–We need to look ahead. What's going to happen to me? Am I going to be here the rest of my life and never see my family again?" She lowered her head. "Tomorrow I could wake, warm in my own bed in my own home. Do you really want to marry me, not knowing that any day I could be gone? Do we have the right to bind ourselves in marriage when our futures could be set in different centuries?"

Louis did not hesitate to answer. "Before I met you I never desired matrimony." He tipped her head upwards. "At first sight of you while you laid asleep in my bed, I knew you were the true mate of my heart. We can take every day as it comes. You are here now, which is all that matters. I believe God brought us together for exactly this reason."

"Well," she smiled. His words were so true. "No! We have to be practical. You are a king; a fact that has never interfered in our relationship until now. We could never get away with going through with it. Every rule in this primitive world forbids it. Someone would stop us. Have you even thought about what your council would think of our intended marriage?"

"I could tell you what they said if you like."

"You've spoken to them about this? You're really serious about this proposal!"

"Elora, there is no one who will prevent you from becoming my wife."

"Louis, be practical, you can't afford to marry me. Your advisors must have objected for that reason alone."

"This is about love, not money."

"Poetic, but not realistic, at least not in this century. "

"I do not need a dowry from you. The men whom you speak of only object because of their greed.–This is our destiny. I am sure God wants it this way. Elora, I am desperately in love with you, please do not refuse me."

"Sometimes love is not enough," Elora whispered. "I have nothing to offer you but my heart."

"That is all I want." He lifted his hand towards her, giving her a clearer view of the ring. The jewels brilliantly sparkled in the golden light. "Be my _Dulcinea_. Marry me."

He was comparing her to the heroine in _Don Quixote_, his favorite book. How romantic was that! She loved him. She was sure she never wanted to be parted from him. If they got married God would never take her away from him. This was the perfect solution.

"Yes, I will!" she finally exclaimed. Louis let out a relieved sigh. He then proceeded to slide the ring onto her finger.

"You are a damn exasperating woman!" he laughed. "You really had me on tenterhooks. I should have expected a hesitation from you. What other woman would consider refusing to marry a king…only you with your twenty-first century, logical mind."

They sealed their engagement with a kiss, with arms wrapped around each other. Elora finally had to pull him off her when she heard the clock strike seven. They would be late to their own party.

Louis chuckled at her practicality. "You still do not fully understand court life. It is set around me. I could never be late because nothing begins without me. We could stay and make love in this room for hours and we still would not be late."

With pursed lips she tipped her head. She could say nothing to that. She knew he was correct, but still marveled at his conceit.

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Decorated especially for the Roux Ball, the Hall of Mirrors was a whirlwind of ornamental cloth, flower festoons, and exotic food. There being at least three hundred courtiers in attendance, it was naturally very crowded and rather warm in the hall and adjoining parlors.

Phillipe had been trapped into a conversation with his cousins, the Douairiere Duchesse de Chartres and her amiable, demure daughter. Lady Thérèse was a pleasant enough young woman, but was always silent when her mother was conversing. He had asked her for the first dance, he knew she would feel at liberty to him speak to him then. When they had all been young children the Morlaix children came to court every summer. Louis and Christophe used to run off at play and left Thérèse and he to themselves at length. He played dolls with her often, just to please her; all the while wishing Louis would include him in play with the boys.

Several years ago, the King's Council had suggested when Lady Thérèse came of age to ally her with him. Philippe liked the girl well enough, but always felt she was more of a sister to him, than a lover. He had always hoped for a wife with a tad more fire. Fortunate for him Louis was against the match or he might be wed to her by now. They had a great deal in common as children, both having domineering elder brothers more important to the world than them. Now they had grown apart and really had very little left to converse about.

Finally the king and his mistress were announced to the hall. As Louis and Elora entered arm in arm everyone bowed. Philippe noticed an unmistakable glow in Elora's face. Something had changed, that was certain.

Louis signaled for silence in the room. "Welcome to all!" he began, with Elora beside him, tightly gasping his hand. Her eyes did not once move to the courtiers, they just remained fixed on Louis. "We are all here tonight due to this remarkable young woman, Comtesse de Valréas. She is the best doctor known to me in the world and for that I owe her my life. For those of you who are not already acquainted with Lady Elora Roux, I will put forward you do so. You will immediately love her as I have, which brings me to my ending proclamation. I would joyfully like to announce…the royal betrothal between Lady Elora Roux and myself." Louis took a moment to kiss her on the cheek. "That is all, go, and have a splendid time; that is an order."

All the courtiers clapped and cheered, whether they wanted to or not. Phillipe could not bring himself to do so. Such an event he had not expected. He never would have believed his brother to be so daft. Now Philippe would never have her as his. She would be his sister-in-law, his cursed brother's wife. His insides burned with jealousy. Elora never even took one minute to give him a chance. Her eyes were only ever for Louis, since her first day at court.

Upon Elora's wish he had played the brotherly friend. Why had he done that? Just to please those pleading green eyes of hers. Well, no more! Elora Roux was no longer a friend of his! She would feel the bitterness of his detestation.

Lady Thérèse did not seem so surprised as her mother, who dropped her fan from shock. Hers was not the only reaction in the crowd. There was nary a soul in the room who was not in some way affected by King Louis' words. Lady Thérèse though, she stood entirely composed, with a serene smile. Philippe knew she was closely acquainted and highly trusted by Elora. He had a rising interest in his dear cousin. He wondered how much she actually knew of Elora and of this suspicious, nuptial news.

Then Louis called for the music to begin, held out his hand to Elora for the first dance of their betrothal. Philippe had to force himself to draw his eyes away from Elora as he danced with Lady Thérèse.

"Thérèse, you seem not in the least startled with the news of my brother's betrothal. Were you privy to something the remainder of us were not."

"No, indeed. This was the first I heard of such news.–Some are simply not as observant as I. If one only looked at the pair of them together, one would see their devotion. I know too well how deeply they care for one another. For some time I did worry for them, foreseeing only broken hearts and ruined lives in their future. Now with my king defying all odds and promising himself to the one woman who will love him for his merits and not his stature; it gives me so much hope.–How are you adjusting to the news, your highness? I did observe your hand move to your chest at the news."

"I remain impassive about the match."

"It is no weakness to exhibit dismay on your part. I know if my brother were here he would likely crumble to the floor at hearing such news."

"My, my, Elora Roux bewitches only the most worthy gentlemen with her charms. Is she the reason he is no longer staying at Versailles?"

"It is no secret my brother courted Elora. He spends his days away at our country home to move past whatever feelings he may have once tendered for her."

"Indeed? So he was bitterly rejected? I am beginning to see how this minx works her magic."

"I have said more than I should and perhaps given you the wrong impression."

"Why do you think to compare me with your dear brother? Do you suppose I suffer from a broken heart as well? How ridiculous!"

"Your words deny it," she said at a whisper, "but your eyes speak the truth.–Do not fear that this conversation will reach any other's ears."

"I am not in love, yet I will say this: I still do not think either their temperaments or their ranks suits the other for such an endeavor as marriage.–I wonder what prompted this betrothal…there are so many possibilities. Our friend Elora Roux has many secrets."

"I cannot deny that, but this is because of love; I am certain."

"Dear cousin, how can you be so confident of that? There must be a better reason. He can love her just as well with her remaining his mistress. He would not have betrothed himself to her without some other motive in mind."

"One can never too entirely be certain of a king's motives, but I know this. Elora would only agree to such a match for honest reasons. I know her to be a great romantic. She told me herself on many occasions she believes arranged marriages prompted by politics or title or wealth to be a sin. She must trust King Louis' reason in asking for her hand to be as heartfelt as her acceptance."

"Whatever the reason, the king has made many enemies today." He looked about the hall. There were many on the king's council and courtiers alike who were full of whispers to one another and nasty looks in Elora's direction, through the corners of their eyes.

This might be the ideal spark of discontent with the crown to fan the flame of revolt. The idea of sentencing Louis to death, while forcibly taking his fiancée as his mistress was very pleasing. He did want to be king, but Elora Roux would hate him. Whether he took her to his bed with her consent or not she would still despise him. Her love for Louis would not fade away with his mere death. Before Philippe became king he would have to find a way to make Elora fall out of love with Louis. Then he would truly win her from his brother.

The dance ended and the next was to begin in a minute's time. Philippe knew what was to come next. Due to court protocol, he was obligated to ask his future sister-in-law for the next dance. Louis was smiling until the moment he handed her off to him. His look was utterly serious, of a warning nature, but Elora did not see this. She never saw what Louis was really like. If she only knew she would not wish to marry Louis; that is if her intentions were true.

She was in pleasant spirits and did not seem unhappy to be dancing with him. She said nothing as the dance began though. She was in her own world, utterly elated and obviously only thinking about Louis.

Phillipe offered her no warm wishes and could not bring himself to speak of her engagement. He had hoped to finish this quickly without being provoked to say something, for he was still very distraught.

"Philippe, can we just get past this awkwardness, so we may speak as friends."

"Why do think this is awkward?"

"Because of the same reason you have not congratulated me on my engagement. Do you think I'm that stupid not to notice? I know why you're upset."

He shook his head in frustration, dropping his hands to his side. "Why does everyone presume to know my feelings?"

"I'm sorry. I should not have said that.–So you are not upset about any of this?"

"I did not say anything of the sort."

"Oh Philippe! Are things are going to be this way between us from now on?"

"Humph."

"Come on, Philippe. You have never hesitated to tell me what you really think, do not stop now."

"I know why there is a marriage in your future. I am quite certain I am not the first to observe it." She shook her head, puzzled. "Elora Roux, it is obvious, you carry the king's child."

She only smiled, as if there was so much on the tip of her tongue she would not say. Then a frown grew, as she perhaps was just realizing his allegation. "Now are you saying this because you think I look fat in this dress or is it because _that_ could be the only reason why a man like him would want to marry me? Under some sort of obligation?–No, I am definitely not with child. There is no way I shall be in such a condition until after I am married."

"You cannot mean–"

"There is only one way to make a baby in 1662, that I know of, and I'm not doing it with Louis."

Such a declaration made in defensive anger was wholly unexpected. He could only take such words, spoken without guard, to be truth. Was she a virgin as she implied? She certainly had all the earmarks of one, yet she was the king's mistress, which universally contradicted such a declaration. This was some useful information he could certainly taunt Louis with.

"Please Philippe the dance is nearly over, I do not have much time. You know I have no family. When I marry Louis I will gain not only you as a brother, but an entire family. I want us all to be happy."

"I have no aversion in having you as an addition to our family. I do not approve of your choice of husband. He is not the man you think he is."

"I know exactly what sort of man he is. He is good, Philippe, whatever disagreements you two may have. I believe he will make a very good husband.–Now let's stop this kind of talk. I wish us to be friends; don't be angry with me."

"I do like you and I have never wished to be your enemy, but I cannot be your friend at this time. Please understand."

She nodded her head anxiously. "I will always be here, if you ever need me."

The moment the dance ended Louis was beside her side once again, looking curious about their conversation. There was no use torturing himself at the ball a minute longer. Philippe knew there was play-acting and fireworks to come, but he was not in the state of mind to be jovial about such things. He turned his heel and adjourned from the ball at that time. He had not even had a morsel to eat, yet he was not in the least hungry.

This match would not last, he was sure. Louis could not stay on good behavior for much longer. When the happy day came that he ascertained knowledge of such an indiscretion Elora Roux would be the first he would go to with the information. Until then he would bide his time and keep his distance.

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When the ball came to an end Louis walked his dearest love down the candlelit hallway to the door of her bedroom. She was talking on about her conversation with Thérèse Morlaix. Elora was so pleased they would soon be cousins. Thérèse had a letter from Christophe yesterday and he appeared to be in better spirits and said he would soon return to court. Of course he did not yet know about their betrothal.

"As you know, Thérèse's mother arrived to stay with her shortly after Christophe left. Her mother says they will remain at court until she gets her married.–I asked Thérèse about Cesaire, for as you know, he would make her the best husband. Her mother approves of him and is anxious to enter into agreements with his family. He is always at her side and I know she loves him. They've known each another practically a year and he's courting her in such a manner his intentions can't be mistaken. He's said he loves her, but she worries his love and her love are not same. I'm telling you, Louis; Cesaire better get his butt in gear before she get's married off to someone else.–Cesaire may just be afraid to settle down; I don't really know.–Louis, do you think you could have a talk with him, as a friend. Don't pressure him, just feel him out and see where he stands."

"I do not know when such an opportunity would present itself."

She tapped his arm. "Have him join your for billiards one afternoon. Just don't pressure him. Having him propose to Thérèse out of desire to please the king is the last thing either Thérèse or I want."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Of course I will speak with him, my love." They reached her door. "I do not suppose that you will invite me in."

Blinkingly, she looked up at him. Was she actually considering the idea? "Come in and we'll talk about it."

Elora opened the door wide for him to enter. He had not expected that answer, for he had only been half serious. She took his hand in hers as she led him into her bedchamber. They sat down on the very sofa he had proposed to her on just a few hours ago.

"Louis, I love you. I think I may be just as anxious to go to bed with you as you are with me. But…there is something I want to explain to you. I would be going to the _bridal-bed _a virgin if…well you know.–He stole that from the both of us. In my heart, I'm still a virgin. I've only heard of the pleasures that come from making love. My Catholic upbringing tells me I should be chaste until we're married. Yet at the same time I don't think it would so bad if we skipped ahead to the honeymoon. The tiebreaker would be your feelings about all this. What is the proper thing for me to do, as betrothed to the king?"

Louis thought for a moment. She did it once again. She dropped a very great decision affecting her existence into his lap. Was she so unsure of herself or did she sincerely trust his judgment, however biased it may be in this situation. He was no longer pursuing Elora as his mistress. She was to be his wife now. He wanted to do the honorable thing for once in his life. He stood and bowed. "Goodnight, my love."

She smiled and bid him goodnight as he left her room. He went to sleep without a single doubt that Elora was the right woman for him and they were going to have a long, happy life together.


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Colbert had not been in attendance at the Roux Ball, but he knew very well what had transpired last night. He despised that wretched girl more than ever. It had been only weeks since he accused Lady Elora Roux of infidelity and failed miserably in his attempt to dispose her. Now he regretted his rash behavior in dealing with her. He should have known she would have some convincing pretext the king would believe.

It took three days before King Louis sent for him. Whether the king wanted him back or not, he needed him to return. Colbert was forced to make an apology to the wretched girl. In the king's private chambers they met with the king chaperoning over them. Colbert's apology to her was sincere to some degree. He was not often provoked to strike another person, least of all a woman, but as the king was always saying, Elora Roux was not just another woman. He truly did not mean to strike with so much force and never thought she would fall, injuring herself further.

She still did not seem the slightest frightened or intimidated by him, just meeting his eyes in the attitude of intense displeasure to be in his company. She spoke something in English under her breath, only seconds after accepting his apology. He was not so familiar with English vernacular where he could deduce her exact words, but he knew they were not complimentary.

In the weeks since then, Colbert could do nothing with the king without being aware of Elora Roux's presence whether in the flesh or by proxy, with the king always keeping some memento of hers close in hand. It was not five days ago when King Louis first suggested the idea marrying that girl while in a council meeting, with only the most important nobles of the kingdom in attendance. Colbert knew there were many in the council who disapproved of Elora Roux. With unanimous solidarity the council opposed his proposal.

The king had spoke with conviction as he masterly countered every opposition against the idea. The treaty with Austria came to the table more than once. Dowry, gold, land were things this particular marriage would lack. They pressed the king with all this. Colbert seemed to be the only one concerned with the fact of Elora Roux's indistinct birth. They would be raising a comtesse, who might have been merely a tavern wench in the Americas, to a queen. Such a wild woman with the king's ear, to be crowned queen, could be catastrophic.

Slowly the king began to persuade them. It all ended with the king gaining the support of exactly three gentlemen, one of which was not he. His Majesty's final resolution was, "I have heard enough." He held his arm up to silence to crowd of men. "I am king; I am law. I shall marry whomever I deem worthy.–I brought to this to the council's knowledge to perhaps gain perspective of something I had not yet considered if this alliance presses forward. Your reactions were expected, but I had already made my decision before today. I will make a proposal of marriage to the Comtesse de Valréas. I have not yet spoken with the lady, perhaps what I intend will never be. Until you hear otherwise from myself, all knowledge of this is to remain in this room. No speaking with each other about the matter. You will not hint anything about my intentions to anyone; be it your wife, mistress, or servant. If Elora Roux hears of this before I speak to her of it I will have you all under arrest for treason."

That was the first and only time the king spoke of the marriage. He stood by when King Louis chose from the jeweler a betrothal ring, though the jeweler was completely unaware the occasion for which the ring would be gifted. Like the woman the king selected for a bride, the ring seemed unsuitable for a betrothal.

Colbert had not gone to the Roux Ball last night because his gout was ailing him. He supposed if the ball had been in honor of some other courtier his foot would not have incapacitated him to such a degree to keep him at home.

The king could not have been in a better temper this morning when Colbert was summoned to him. It concerned a question of some document, which he had tendered. Colbert had honestly never seen him so happy, which was good he supposed.

He took no excitement in saying, "Your Majesty, I must congratulate you. I expect she has accepted your proposal of marriage."

"Yes, indeed. She has pleased me greatly. You will come with me to witness the signing of the betrothal. We assemble in the Peace Drawing Room.–Colbert, there is such a relief in my heart. I did so fear her refusal."

"My king, you should not have feared such a thing. No woman could decline such a proposal."

Louis stood to better adjust his attire, chuckling to himself as if his last statement had been utterly absurd. Declining King Louis was impossible. Even Elora Roux would not have such audacity.

Colbert puffed away at his pipe. "Your Majesty, I say again, no good can come of marrying this young woman," he said in a dissatisfied cadence. "We must speak of the treaty with Austria. You have known for months of the Archduchess coming to Versailles. I predict her arrival within the week. How do you wish to proceed?"

Louis thought for a moment before answering, "Welcome my cousin with the grandeur royalty is accustomed to. I will see she has a pleasant stay."

"Your Majesty, you know quite well the reason for this visit and what will be written in the documents she comes with. You will–"

Elora Roux was announced as the doors opened for her. "My love," said the king, going to her. "I thought we were to meet in the drawing room."

"Yes, but I could not wait any longer for you."

She entered the room, as would a sated cat. Her gown of blues and greens was very fine and certainly beyond the means of her monthly allowance. It must have been another gift from his king. Her betrothal ring could not be missed, especially the way she was flashing it about, however conscious the action was.

Elora Roux had bewitched his king. She had taken his place at the king's side. Louis had finally fallen in love and he could not have chosen a more unsuitable young lady. His one consolation was that they were not yet married. There was still time. He knew he would have to act in some way to rid the king of her, but first his king would need inducement to fall out of love with her. Surely, the archduchess would be the perfect addition to the court to divert the king's attention.

He followed the king and his whore to the Peace Drawing Room. All of the king's council and nobles of royal blood were in attendance. Colbert was greeted by his peers. Many commented how he was missed last evening.

The king spoke some pretty words about the betrothal and his wife to be to please the crowd of courtiers standing about. Louis moved first to pick up the feather quill, sign his name, and stamp his seal with his insignia. He bowed to the Elora Roux and handed her the quill.

She smiled brightly, taking it from him. Colbert saw clearly that she merely signed it _Elora Roux_ and the king had taken notice straight away as well. Whispering in her ear, she let out a small giggle and nodded her head. She finished with, _Comtesse de Valréas_.

As soon as the crowd began to disband, Elora kissed the king without restraint and parted from him. Colbert followed behind her at a distance. She then appeared to be returning to her chambers, but stopped at the door to the king's Clock Cabinet to speak with the guard at the door.

Her conversation seemed animated and the man was clearly enjoying her attention. The guard said little, then looked in his direction. She finally turned back, clearly seeing him. He saw her draw a breath as her smiled faded.

He bowed as was necessary. "Monsieur, place your attention back to your duty." The guard straightened up. "Comtesse, might I have a word with you?"

"Monsieur Colbert," was all she said with a nod.

He led her back to the Hall of Mirrors, taking his arm with hesitation. "You may think because the king has marked his insignia on that document you are already a queen, but that is not the case."

"I never thought such a thing." She rolled her eyes, clearly not intimidated. "I only know what is. I am betrothed to King Louis. I have hopes to marry soon, but hardly fathom the idea of being queen. As you know, I am not a qualified candidate for that honor. Louis seems to be the only one to believe I will do well at it."

"What humility! I have never heard such words even from the most holy persons of my acquaintance."

"Why do you take everything I say as a lie?" She let go of his arm.

"You believe yourself to be pretty sly, but I know your sort. You play at emotions to make as many connections as you can. It is all play-acting; coming to court with no money to your name and now about to become queen. Your performance over these past few months has been brilliant to watch. Obviously, this has been your aim all along."

"Who are you or any courtier at Versailles to say such a thing, when you all perform and lie and inconvenience yourselves to fit your lives around the king to gain something. You are the actors, not me. I am not a master of the French language, so I certainly can't convince you with a monologue filled with poetic words. I can only say this is no performance; this is who I am. I love the man, not the crown. I wish you would believe titles and fortunes hold no interest for me."

"Why could you not just be satisfied with you station of mistress?–If indeed gaining the crown and its fortunes are inconsequential what reason could you have to wed His Majesty? You share his bed often enough and have his trust. What greater honor could you want?"

"Being a mistress is no honor; it is a sin any way you look at it. To marry Louis is a virtuous act for us to grow in love with one another. It is the fulfillment of everything I feel in my heart. You must understand that.–I was told you had a wife some years ago and retained no mistress on the side."

He could feel his jaw tightening. He preferred his personal affairs to remain such. Had the king been the one to share such confidences with her? He had not thought about his dear wife for some time. Marie was a quiet girl who knew her place was in her husband's shadow. Sadly, they had only been married five years when she died after giving birth to their child. It was their third stillborn. He believed she died from a broken heart after hearing that her long awaited son was dead. Only hours later she had passed on to be with their children. He could never bring himself to remarry. Women were a waste of men's energy.

"Oh, sir," said Elora Roux. "I'm sorry. I did not mention it to make you sad."

He would not mark it. How dare she observe him in a moment of weakness! "Your dreams of virtue do not negate your sin of sharing his bed.–You have no conscience of that mortal sin?" He was being indelicate, but if there was a woman who would not take offence he was sure it would be Elora Roux.

"Okay, that's totally not your business." She lowered her voice. "Merely sharing a bed means nothing. It's what choices are made while in the bed, which can be sinful. I know what everyone thinks of me. My character has been fixed as the king's mistress and whore since almost the day I came here, but I have peace because I know it's untrue. There is nothing sinful about our relationship."

He waited for Elora to add in she was jesting with him, but she did not. Her expression could not be of a more serious nature. He had to clear his throat. Was she actually claiming she had not had sexual relations with the king? That was the most absurd falsehood ever to come from her mouth. She shared a bed with his king and he never conquered her? Impossible. Everything in his manner confirmed he was having relations with the girl. It was ridiculous to assume anything else. He knew his king very well. He had been meeting his need with ladies up to five nights in a week for over ten years.

"Then Comtesse, I would have to assume your reputation means nothing to you."

"My reputation is important, but not as much as being able to spend the quality time that I want to with Louis." She looked around anxiously. "Colbert, it's been stimulating talking with you, but I've got to go and do…well really anything but this. Good day."

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Elora had wanted to spend more time with Louis this morning, but he had his work to do. Instead she somehow got caught up in a very disagreeable conversation with Colbert. She still was not sure why she had to sign that document. Perhaps it was just protocol, but something in Louis' manner made it seem more important than that. Yet Colbert did not seem to think the betrothal document was quite so binding as Louis believed it was.

She was to meet Louis after lunch for their walk in the gardens. She hopped down the stairs and found him just about to go outdoors himself.

He greeted her good afternoon cheerfully, sweetly calling her his wife-to-be before he walked past Louvois to kiss her ardently. Today was a private walk, so no courtiers were given precedence to follow behind the king other than she. Louis guided her towards his private garden.

"My love, I have a great surprise for you."

"Tell me."

"There is a dancing troupe coming to Versailles. They are mostly Italian and dance quiet similarly to your ballet."

"Really! That's exciting."

"I have not told all. They are to perform to newly composed music. The dancers will enact the tale of the tragic Greek figure Cassandra.–You see I was hoping you would be Cassandra."

"You want me to." She jumped into his arms to kiss him.

"Yes, I think it is time to expose the entire court to your talents."

"When do they come? How long will we have to rehearse? When will the performance be?"

"They come tomorrow. I wish to see you make you debut to the stage in two weeks."

"No way. You have to give us at least three weeks to learn the routine. This is all new material, at least for me. I do not even know how complex the dances will be."

"As you wish, my love. I do have more news.–I expect another visitor at court in several days."

"Who? Anybody famous?"

"Hardly. My cousin, Lady Maria Magdalena, the Archduchess of Austria."

"She is the daughter of King Leopold, who is a cousin of my mother's. I have never before met her, for she has lived in Austria her entire life. She comes with a large entourage. France has high hopes for a treaty with Austria to be settled on this visit."

What was it in his tone that worried her? He was hiding something. She turned to face him fully, taking his hand in hers. "Are you worried about something?"

"It has been brought to my attention she may be included in the treaty."

"Like you would take guardianship of her? Is she a child?"

"No, she is sixteen years. Colbert had been the instrument in sending for her months ago, before you came into my life. Many on my council desired her to be my wife."

"Oh," she tried to say, but stood for several seconds frozen in an open-mouthed stupor. Finally the _oh_ came out. Louis looked anxious.

Sixteen would make her and Louis ten years apart in age, not to mention she was his cousin. She could barely hold back an eww sound from coming forth from her lips. She slowly pulled away from him.

"You're not already engaged to her are you?"

"No. You are my betrothed."

"You should have told me this a long time ago." She circled around the fountain, walking ahead of him. She tried to wrap her mind about what all of this really meant. "Is this why you rushed everything? This sudden proposal? The signing of that silly paper? You thought that you would not do any of that once she was here? We spoke of France's relationship with Austria just last week. I can't believe you never even mentioned it."

"I feared it would have effected your decision. Elora, this is not so great a crisis as you think it is."

"Louis, it was my right to know. I feel almost tricked…no, more like deceived."

"That was not my intention."

"Of course it was. Louis, we're engaged now. You can't keep things from me, especially things which have so much bearing on our relationship. I need to be able to trust you; trust we can get through trouble together. Honesty is important. If we can't be honest with each other who can we be honest with?"

She never imagined such dealing from Louis. How many other things did he keep from her in order to preserve their relationship?

"Forgive me. I will never again disappoint you.–When she comes do not be troubled. Bear in mind I chose you. I will marry you. France will be yours, my love."

She was comforted by his words. It was likely she was just being jealous of that girl and there really was no reason for it. If anything the archduchess would be jealous of her. She would still be cautious though.

"I think that princess will have the shock of her life when she finds out about me. I just hope she's not too disappointed. I will do my best to make her feel welcome and help her make friends. Maybe Philippe will fall in love with her or someone else will catch her fancy so this treaty may be signed."

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On the first day of rehearsals she was told to be at the opera at nine in the morning. She was well prepared. Louis commissioned for her an outfit, not a leotard and tights, no 1662 was not so advanced. She had a pink dress of thin material that was ankle-length. It did not seem appropriate to practice in, but all she had with her from home to wear was her ballet shoes, so she would have to don that dress. She carried her shoes over her shoulder as she ran across the chateau to get there on time.

It seemed everyone was already in the opera when she arrived. Pierre Beauchamp, the creator of the ballet and Jean-Baptiste Lully, composer were the only two whom she recognized in the room. The dancers were on stage grouped together chatting. Lully stood by the band, giving what looked like an inaugural address.

Monsieur Beauchamp greeted her with a smile and a bow. "You are most welcome, my lady! This theatrical will make you shine, so says His Majesty. He told me you are very light on your feet and to place you as the lead dancer. I hope you are up to the role. It will be a great deal of work."

"I must tell you I am a bit out of shape, but I did study ballet since I was six years old. I only stopped my lessons about three years ago. I have been able to dance en pointe for eight years. I am no professional though, not like these fine dancers I'm sure."

"I had no idea of such a history. My lady, you must inform me, as French is not your primary language, what do you mean by en pointe?" His forehead had crinkled in puzzlement.

"Dance on the tips of the toes, my lord," she said cautiously, realizing she may have said something she should not have.

"I have never seen it. You must illustrate it to me after you warm up. I am very interested in this New World ballet."

This was not good. Now that she thought of it, ballet was just getting its beginnings around this century. Perhaps her techniques would be too advanced. She was going to kill Louis for getting her into this. He had seen her dance months ago and he still thought it a good idea to perform ballet with other dancers. She was going to be a freak in yet another aspect of her life here.

"Monsieur Beauchamp, I'd just like to ask one thing before we begin. Please don't be nice to me just because I going to marry King Louis. I wish to be treated as any other dancer on the stage. I want _Cassandra's Curse_ to be taken as a serious production."

"As is my wish too, Comtesse."

She was introduced to the dancers; four men and two women. They were all tall, olive-skinned, and slender. They spoke French well, though they all seemed intimidated by her presence and presented false friendliness in their greeting.

Beauchamp sat them down and told them his plans for the ballet, what kind of scenes they would have, who would be having rehearsals, at what times, etcetera.

Parts were assigned. Allegra was to be Helen of Troy. She seemed the leading ingénue of the group and probably not at all happy she had to share the spotlight with her. She had a mole on her cheek that Elora could not help glancing at every time she looked in her direction.

Angelo would play Apollo and what a god he would make. He was leading man material; a real pretty boy and he acted like he knew it. She wondered if he was as good a dancer as the chip on his shoulder made him out to be.

Filippo would be Ajax the Lesser. He was definitely villain material. He seemed a nice enough guy, but his broad shoulders and dark, curly beard made him look the part without him even needing to be in costume.

Roberto would play Paris. Paulo and Bianca would be King Priam and Queen Hecuba. These three did not even make eye contact with her, no matter speak to her when they were introduced. She would have to work on them. As long as she got along with Angelo and Filippo it was the most important, since she would be dancing the most with them.

"So Mademoiselle Allegra, is this the first time you have been to Versailles?"

"Yes, but the king has seen our performance of _L'impatience_ a year past."

"Nice. King Louis has seen me dance ballet once. He really liked it. He has great love for the arts, especially dancing."

Beauchamp announced it was time for warm-ups. She hurried on stage with the rest to lace up her shoes. The other dancers had very different ballet shoes. They were more like regular shoes with heels. How was it possible for them to fully extend their legs in those? The dancers looked at her ballet shoes with as much wonder.

She was so incredibly embarrassed. Shoes such as they were wearing had been delivered with the dress, but she just thought Louis got her new shoes. She never imagined such shoes would be intended for ballet, but she knew now that must have been what they were. Now those shoes were sitting under her bed gathering dust. The ballet shoes she presently wore were 21st century era pink satin, pointe shoes; specially sized for her feet and well broken-in.

She watched the others before she began, wondering what they would do. They began stretches she knew and practicing the five positions. They stood at the barre stretching for a least an hour.

In that time she also went to the ground to stretch her hamstrings and other leg muscles before going down into a full front split. All eyes were again on her. She turned her eyes downward, ignoring their looks. If no one said anything, then she would not mark it.

"I've never quite seen anyone so limber, my lady," came the voice of Allegra. "Might you show me those stretches so I might make an attempt?"

Still sitting in a split position Elora said, "I can show you some exercises, but it may take a long time for you to be able to do it like this. Some people can never do a full split."

So she showed the girl what she knew. The girl was all smiles and seemed to have warmed to her.

"My lady, when are you to marry His Majesty?"

Such a question from a new acquaintance took her aback for a moment before she could answer. "We have not set a date yet. I do not believe it will be a very long time. Being betrothed is all so new. When I first wake in the morning I sometimes forget that all of this has happened. Then I think of Louis and cannot stop a smile.–I really want us to gel as a group. I know I'm not a member of your troupe and we just met, but please feel free to call me by my Christian name; everyone does. In all honesty, I wish Beauchamp had not told you who I am. I don't want things to be awkward around us."

"Elora," Allegra smiled. "We will not be awkward. Our troupe has performed with nobility before and in the viewing of King Louis no less."

"I'm glad."

"All right, Lady Elora," bellowed Beauchamp coming up onto the stage. "Enough of that chatter. Since you are no longer practicing your footwork at the barre, suppose you give us a taste of your talents."

She took a deep breath. "I'm ready." She asked the orchestra leader to play the overture from _Ballet de la Nuit_. Unbelievably she had actually danced to that song in her recital in 9th grade. She had not known then how old that song really was until she heard it played here back in the spring.

Elora danced as well as she could without a partner. She was sure to let Beauchamp see all of her best steps and how smoothly she could change positions. From pirouettes to grand battlements to echappés en pointe, she focused on posture, turnout and arm positions.

When she finished she curtsied to the audience. Beauchamp had his hand to his mouth and she could not tell appalled or pleased. She looked to the dancers who all looked shocked.

"Listen, Monsieur Beauchamp," she lowered her head. "If my technique is not what you're looking for in a lead dancer I have no problem stepping down from the role."

"My lady, you're dancing was…magnificent. You are every instructor's dream. I have only begun to envision such movements you have just performed. I first thought you a fool wearing those flat-footed slippers, but now…I must say the ways you can leap and execute turns are amazing. You will keep wearing those slippers surely while you play Cassandra. We will work on your turnout a bit and how you change from second to fifth, but that is what rehearsals are for. Now that I better know your proficiency I am having a flood of ideas constructing in my mind for suitable dances for you."

She smiled with relief.

That day they began to learn the dance where Apollo notices Cassandra's beauty and gifts her with sight of the future. It was probably the only happy part of the play. It was coincidence she was playing the part of a girl who could see the future.

Beauchamp's choreography was a real artist of dance, though a bit demanding. She knew she was going to be sore tomorrow from this. She really was regretting not devoting enough time out of her day to stay in shape. She had not even taken a jog for a week.


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

The week had flown by since the engagement. All the higher nobility who had always ignored her were suddenly her best friends. She did not particularly like that they only cared to make friends with her now that she was going to be Louis' wife and queen.

Between her ballet practice and all the invitations she was receiving she had not a spare moment to herself. Publicly greeting the archduchess was one of the first duties she had as betrothed to the king. Doing this was the beginning of her life as a ruler, like a dry run at what it would be like. She believed she was really going to love this life. What she loved so much about it was moments like this where she and Louis were together, holding hands and chatting. In marrying Louis she would get to work with the man she loved for the rest of her life. And what an office workplace they had to spend it in!

It was late afternoon on a Sunday, when Lady Maria Magdalena, the Archduchess of Austria arrived at the French Court of Versailles. Louis and she stood side by side waiting to greet her once she exited the white carriage. Elora's excitement made her all smiles as she and Louis walked down to the marble courtyard together. She was the second to greet the archduchess once she got out of the carriage. Lady Magdalena graciously thanked them.

Elora was slightly intimidated just from their first meeting. Not only was Lady Magdalena's French perfect even though she was a foreigner, but her manner of speaking was so elegant. She was a somewhat attractive girl. Her youth and stature was to blame for the majority of her beauty, so it was not necessarily a lasting beauty. She had shining yellow hair and striking gray eyes, like storm clouds. Her figure was short and trim, with a super large bust-line for such a petite girl. Elora predicted this lady was going to be highly desired at the French court.

She glimpsed in Louis' direction through the corner of her eye as they met the lady. His expression was of enchantment. No, she must have imagined it; he was just being friendly. But he did not take his eyes from the lady, even when Elora spoke a few words to Lady Magdalena. Louis did not mark that she had even spoken. It was as if in those minutes she was invisible to him. She did not appreciate his behavior.

Her stomach turned the moment Louis took Lady Magdalena's arm to walk inside. Wondering what had just happened, Elora stood outside the chateau, as everyone moved indoors following the king. She could hardly believe Louis completely forgot her, his fiancée. Elora did not think of herself as the jealous sort, but she could not pull the image from her mind.

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Thérèse was so happy to be the most favored friend of the future queen. She still could not forget Elora's refusal to marry Christophe, especially now with her about to marry someone else. Things could have been so different if Elora had loved one man versus the other. Thérèse could not imagine why she could not love Christophe, he was the best of men, but of course she realized her opinion was biased being his sister. She could hardly believe this was all still fresh in her mind.

Elora was marrying the king; at least they would be cousins from that connection. Though she never imagined the engagement between those two ever possible, as she was quite certain the rest of the world had not either. It had never been done before; at least not in France.

Now all she had to do was get her dear Cesaire to propose. He was also a lover of women, as the king had been. He had told her he loved her many times and she was willing let him steal a kiss most nights he when walked her to her chambers. He had great beauty in his face and figure, which also came along with unwillingness to make a promise of marriage. Perhaps she should ask Elora how she got the king to propose. Hers was definitely a greater feat.

Elora sat with her that evening at the festivities after dinner. She decided to ease into the question, instead of asking it bluntly. "Elora, I can hardly believe you are engaged to the king.–What a king you have shaped him into."

Elora mumbled a reply agreeing with her. Thérèse could see she was not being attentive to the conversation. Instead, Elora was staring with venom at the courtiers on the dance floor. Surely something must be troubling her. She looked to where Elora with angry, squinted eyes was staring. She did not doubt the reason for Elora's behavior was the king dancing with Lady Magdalena. The lady had just then said something in His Majesty's ear and he laughed. Oh no, Thérèse thought, this was all too familiar looking and Elora had unquestionably noticed.

"Thérèse, what have you heard said about the archduchess?"

"Well, they say she is beautiful…and that she has a princess' dowry."

"Is that all?"

"Yes…I think. She has not been here a full day. There is not much of anything to say, only speculation. What is it that bothers you?"

"Did you happen to notice the attention she is receiving from the king?"

Thérèse became even more nervous now. This was surely not the best time to bring up her difficulties with Cesaire. "Elora, I am certain it is nothing. The king proposed to _you_. He loves _you_."

"But that was before he met Her Grace. It is Lady Magdalena who has captured his attention today…not _me_! Thérèse, tell me I'm overreacting."

"Oh, Elora, you are certainly overreacting. I am sure it is not what you think." Thérèse put a comforting arm around her friend. She did not think Elora believed her; she was not certain she believed herself. If King Louis were truly intending to take a mistress she was not sure Elora would stand for it. Then where would that lead? Elora's heart would break and there would certainly be no royal wedding.

"I wish I felt better about all of this. The shade of jealousy is not a good color on me."

The king did not ask Elora to dance the entire first hour of the festivities. He had wounded her feelings badly, Thérèse could tell. When he finally did ask her to dance he was not in the least affronted when she refused. Could he be so dense? Or could it be he simply did not care? It was then she exited the ballroom with Thérèse beside her. She wanted to go to bed early and Thérèse had the same idea in mind.

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As the days went by Elora was beginning to doubt the sincerity of Louis' love. He had won her hand; now he no longer tried to impress her or flatter her. He still kissed her goodnight and mentioned something about their wedding plans every day, but the excitement of dating was gone.

While she was busy practicing in the opera Lady Magdalena was consistently taking her place at Louis' side. She had expected as much to some extent. She understood everyone, including Louis, had some major sucking up to do to Magdalena. All attention was on someone else at Versailles for once. That girl was indeed crucial in getting a fair treaty signed between the two countries. Where Louis was, Magdalena was sure to be. Any whim of Magdalena's was allowed. She was a well-behaved girl, but she was still childish in so many ways and prone to getting her way. She giggled far too much.

Elora knew she had to be adult about this situation, but it was difficult not to just push the girl out of her way. There were bigger things at stake here than just her relationship with Louis. If there were to be war with Austria then other countries would surely become involved. This could be the making of a colossal war. Thousands, maybe millions of people's lives could be destroyed. If Elora could just shut her mouth and play it nice with the archduchess then she could save that many lives from mayhem and death. It was difficult to argue with that logic.

What Elora did not appreciate was every time she and Louis were together they were not really together anymore. Lady Magdalena's mere presence distracted him from any conversation she offered. There was a gleam in Louis' eyes when he looked at Magdalena; the same way he used to look at her. At dinner, she no longer sat at Louis' right, losing the privilege to the fortunate archduchess. She instead had to sit to Philippe's left, hardly getting a chance to say a full sentence to him all through dinner. Elora only had the first dance reserved with him now. He must have preferred Magdalena's dancing to hers.

In public, Louis would openly flirt with Lady Magdalena and she was no less shy in return. Rumors passed through the court faster than the plague could. From the whispers of random courtiers she found things out. Every look, every touch, every inappropriate word which passed between them was usually not with her present, but there was always some courtier who could not wait to tell her what they had heard or seen.

She was losing her fiancé. As every day passed, her frustration with Louis grew. Every time she was with him, even when they were alone, she could never bring herself to confess her suspicions or even just her hurt feelings. Instead of speaking about the problem, she became bitter and angry when they were together. Everything he said and did annoyed her. She had no patience for his stories or jokes. His touch was becoming unbearable because she was wondering if was he was wishing she were Magdalena when they kissed and embraced. She was becoming tired of being fiancée to the king.

She needed an escape from this heartrending reality. It was not difficult to avoid Louis now that she had her ballet practices as an excuse and Lady Magdalena was there in her place. She was really enjoying this ballet. Monsieur Beauchamp, who at first impression seemed he would be a pompous jerk, he was actually really easy to work with. He would ask her every so often what movement she could do for a step. She was happy to oblige him with examples of what she was capable of doing or showing the other dancers a certain move.

Of course the long ballet dress Louis gave her only worked for about a day before she shortened it knee-length herself and found some undergarments that would do well for practice. Now she looked like a complete freak in this century, but at least she could dance comfortably.

After practice Elora moseyed about her bedroom and picked up the Shakespeare book Philippe had lent her. She opened it up and flipped through the pages until she found the play she wanted, _Measure for Measure_. She sat on her bed and began to read, but she was not feeling quite comfortable. Her room was not very well lit for reading and she was tired of sitting in this one room so often. She closed the book and decided to look for a quiet room in the chateau to read. She passed room after room, parlors and salons, but there always seemed to be someone else in there or just passing by loudly. She wanted somewhere where she could hide away for hours at a time.

She went back upstairs to the attics and found a small room near the end of the north wing filled with unwanted furniture. There were two arch windows at both sides of the room. She opened them all to let out the steamy, dusty air. The room was obviously neglected by the cleaning staff; for the wood floors seemed an inch thick in dust and the windows clouded with grime. She was glad someone had the sense to cover the furniture with sheets. This room seemed perfectly suited, meeting all her desires for a place of privacy.

She was not going to be doing any reading for the next few hours it seemed. She had to get her new salon cleaned up. She returned to her bedroom to put on a gown that she had specially requested from Madame Desiree some time ago about the time Louis was ill. It was a short-sleeved navy blue cotton dress with a scoop neckline. There was no lace, embroidery, or ribbons to fancy it up. It was as simple as a sundress and certainly not what a comtesse should ever wear, but she had wanted something that was light and she could work in easily. If it were torn or stained it would not be a big deal, but she had not had opportunity to wear it before now.

She got a mop, bucket of water, and dusting rags from Suzanne and returned to the attic. Suzanne wanted to do the cleaning for her, but she would not let her. This was her secret place, not even she could know.

Elora worked on the room for the rest of the afternoon. She even forgot about supper. As she mopped the floor she realized how wonderful it felt to be doing chores again. Louis would never allow her to do such menial tasks if he knew.

She moved the majority of the furniture into a homey arrangement. There was some excess of tables and chairs that she piled in one of the other rooms next door. She placed a room screen in front of the entryway to the room in order to conceal it from unwanted visitors.

When she was done she was very pleased with the results. None of the furniture matched, but it was clean and in a comfortable order. With the windows wide open the room had aired out well. The sweltering heat gone and a soft breeze came forth. The summer was nearly over and this might be the last hot day of the season. Elora remained in the salon to read, but even now that she was in the perfect setting she was getting little read.

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When Philippe woke he had every intention of joining the Duc de Nevers on a hunt for game birds. He received a message shortly after breakfast from Nevers' page stating his regrets that he was unwell for such an activity today. The hunt was to be postponed for another day.

He kept to his chambers answering letters and reading until Elora came to borrow yet another leather-bound book from his small library. Her face was drawn and her eyes had a sad look about them, even when she smiled. He welcomed her to stay to play a game of chess with him, but she declined, like every other day he invited her to stay.

He knew why she was unhappy; her heart was breaking. His dear brother was neglecting her and attending to another. This was his golden opportunity to win Elora away from his brother. In honesty, he had no proof that Louis had been untrue to her. The court gossip and harmless flirtations was all the evidence he had against his brother. But Elora believed Louis was untrue, so he decided he might as well use it to his benefit. Actually Louis had suggested to him several nights ago that the Archduchess might be a good match for him. He had been forcing him to dance with the lady every night. Louis had something coming if he thought he would wed that fat lipped, Austrian cousin of his.

Philippe knew Elora was hiding from his brother. Louis was humiliating her day after day gallivanting about with other ladies. Whenever he looked for she could never be found until she wanted to be. He pressed her to tell him where she had been disappearing lately. She insisted she was just busy with the ballet she was to perform in.

Though this ballet was taking up much of her time he knew for a fact it was not taking up all of her free time. He sometimes popped his head in the opera if he were passing down that wing of the chateau. He had seen her dance months ago, but nothing like this. She practiced in a short, flimsy dress, with long, silk stockings all the way up her legs and shortened drawers under her skirt. Anyone was free to clearly see these undergarments as she spun and extended her leg straight up above her head.

Her attire was eccentric, but he understood the reason of it when the others ladies danced beside her with their tight, laced bodices and layered petticoats. Elora's dancing was far superior to the other dancers on the stage. He had never before noticed how flexible and graceful she was. Her movement was precise and artful.

He even saw her giving Monsieur Beauchamp advice on the choreography and he welcomed it. Philippe knew Beauchamp well since childhood. Beauchamp thought of himself as the finest and could take no criticism. Everything was done his way down to the last bat of the eye.

Today, when Elora left his chambers with a new book in hand he decided to follow her. She left the south wing hall traveling down the Prince's Staircase to the ground floor, going outside to the Marble Courtyard, appearing to be cutting across the chateau. The guards smiled at her as she passed them with a friendly wave of the hand. She reentered the chateau through the Ambassador's Staircase, once again returning to the first floor. As he followed her down the north wing, he believed she was only going to the opera to dance. Yet she passed by the doorway heading toward the Questel Staircase.

She was not aware of his presence, even as he crept up the stairs behind her, through rooms of dusty furniture and unwanted props from the court performances. He found her making herself comfortable in what had been a storage room for unwanted furniture and things, she had now transformed it into a small salon. She next opened the great windows, nudging a jammed one with her shoulder to get it open a bit. No woman of noble birth would ever strain herself to open those heavy, unyielding windows herself. Who she was continued to baffle him. He would find out the truth someday, perhaps from Elora Roux herself.

She looked upon the Water Avenue and silently cried. He did not need to see who it was she was looking at either. It had to have been the king.

He was feeling discourteous, peeking in on her while she believed herself alone. He should not have followed her.

She wiped the tears away, walked over to the pink sofa and began to read. He wanted to make his presence known, but decided it was not the best time. She already did not trust him; he did not want to give her another reason to dislike him. When his brother was through with her, as he predicted would be soon by the way he was behaving around the Austrian princess, he wanted to have her. Louis would break Elora's heart and he would be there to pick up the pieces. She would be his after all! He just needed to be patient and show her only his good side.

The next afternoon Philippe went up to the attics resolute to surprise Elora, but at the same time planning to act astonished to see her there. As he loudly climbed up the stairs and approached her she did not look up or even seem to hear him. She sat with her whole body wedged into the spacious windowsill. She leaned back against one side with her feet up and knees bent slightly. Her eyes never flinched as she read from the book in her lap. She was looking rather fetching in a pale purple gown and quite comfortable.

He cleared his throat, but she still did not look up. It was then he saw she had her ears plugged up with small white beads attached to a string. Perhaps she did not want to be distracted by sounds around her, yet he could hear nothing at present that could be a nuisance to her.

He did not want to startle her too much considering she was at the edge of an open window and three stories from the ground. Trepidatious, he leaned towards her and lightly tapped her shoulder. She wobbled and screamed some vulgar words that no young lady should know. He grabbed her arm, just in case she was to fall out. She steadied herself quickly and pulled the beads from her ears. "Philippe!"

"I apologize for invading your privacy. I saw you coming up here. I simply wanted to ask you how you were enjoying the book. Then I saw how quaint this little room was and how comfortable you looked. I suppose I wanted to join you.–What exactly is that in your hand?"

She huffed, looked exasperated with his question. She hopped off the sill, not taking the hand he offered for assistance. "It's nothing." She wrapped the strings around the small box and tucked it under a pillow on the sofa. "Just my MP3.–Ah, translated to French it is…it is a…"

"Box," Philippe finished.

"Yes!" She smiled at him.

"Containing…"

"Food for the soul."

"All right." This lady was hiding more than one ace in her sleeve. He despised when she answered important questions in proverbs. He wished she would just say what she was thinking. "And what about the earplugs, why are they connected to a string?"

"Yeah, _earplugs_, exactly. Well the string keeps them together; they are a pair after all."

"Might I see it again?"

"Maybe later. I'm more interested in you right now. I came here purposely to be alone. I really don't feel like entertaining company."

"I do not expect you to be a hostess to me. I would like to sit here with you and read if you will allow me." He removed a small book from his inside breast pocket.

She shrugged her shoulders, giving in. "You can certainly stay here if you like. Nothing in this chateau is mine, least of all this forsaken room. Please, just promise me you will not tell anyone this is where I come to get away."

So he stayed that day and returned time after time, of course only remaining when Elora Roux was present. They did not converse as much as they sat in the blissful quiet and read. She was becoming quite comfortable with his presence. Sometimes she would lean over to him, book in hand, to ask for a translation of some French word or phrase into English. He of course was more than pleased to oblige her. Her manner was so relaxed and informal. He understood why Louis enjoyed spending time alone with her. It was as if the hierarchy acknowledged by the world did not exist in that room with Elora. They were just two people, not prince and comtesse.

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The ballet was only two days away and Elora was very nervous on how it was going to turn out. She did not feel she had half as much practice as she needed. To make it all the worse today she was ordered by King Louis to refrain from going to ballet practice because there was to be naval show in the Grand Canal of the Battle of La Rochelle. It was to commemorate the increased financing for the French Navy instituted by Colbert. The miniatures of the great battleships were entertaining, but Elora could hardly enjoy it because of the company she kept.

The court was packed full today for this show and still the main focus of Louis' attention was Lady Magdalena. Luckily Philippe was with them and had noticed Elora's increasing agitation with her so he took Magdalena's arm to show her a better view of a particular ship. Elora was glad for at least a few minutes she would be somewhat alone with Louis.

"I have been missing you a great deal lately," he began, "and now that I finally get you outside in the sunlight I cannot see a glimmer of a smile."

"I only smile when I have cause. I will not smile merely because you want to see me happy. I'll smile when you make me happy."

He took her hand in his. "What can I do to please you?"

She had so many things to tell him, but hoped he could guess what it was she really wanted. It was not so long ago when he could predict her every desire. There was something gone from them now, something Magdalena had stolen. "Excuse Lady Magdalena from your company for only today." She searched his eyes for an answer, one that he was not likely to give.

"Why do you demand such of me? You know how important she is."

"Oh I could never pretend not to know how important she is to you. What upsets me is how much more important her feelings are to you than mine are.–For an engaged man your behavior is totally inappropriate. Don't you see you're giving this girl the wrong impression?"

"Are you insinuating my actions have not been guarded?"

"It's incredible that you even have to ask that! Everyone has noticed. It's really embarrassing for me to see you flirting with that girl in my presence, which is leading me to imagine what must be going on when I'm not around."

"Elora, I have no such feelings."

"Then let's not put things off any longer."

"You want to set a date for our wedding?"

"Do you really think now is the right time to bring that up? A clue, no.–It is about time for you to revise the treaty and get it signed?"

Just at the most inconvenient moment Lady Magdalena returned with Philippe, practically dragging him behind her. No doubt she could not wait to get back to Louis. Lucky for Louis, they could not continue their conversation.

"I was just telling our cousin," said Philippe, "how lovely she has dressed the part today. This blue with the little gold ship embellishment on her hat is charming."

"Oh yes, cousin, certainly well suited and most beautiful," Louis stated.

Did he not recall anything they had just talked about? "Lady Elora," Magdalena deigned to speak to her. "Why have you not dressed for the occasion? You see everyone else wears patriotic colors for this naval themed day."

"I wish I cared for the vanities that so many at Versailles believe to be important. I chose to wear yellow today because I felt like wearing it. Besides I am not the sort who wants to conform and blend into a faceless crowd."

This was how it was every day, adulating over one another. She was sick of it. "Louis, you must excuse me," she finally said, unable to stand in between them any longer.

"Why?" His voice was angry.

She cleared her throat. "I have a sudden headache." This was a lie of course.

"It is the sun. Have a cold drink and you will feel better."

"Thank you, but I really must go inside."

"Elora, this is important. You need to be present."

She whispered into his ear, "Louis, if you don't excuse me right now I'm going to kick you so hard you won't walk for a week. We'll finish our conversation later."

"Elora, go rest. I will see you at dinner tonight."

Yeah two seats away and maybe one dance later on, she thought. "Don't count on it," she said as she walked away.

She could hear Magdalena saying something like, "Lady Elora has quite a dry sense of humor."

If she ever got that princess alone she would find out how dry her humor was. She knew Louis knew she did not really have a headache, but she had to get out of there. The haven she chose was her little secret salon. There were so many books from Philippe's library she still wanted to read and had several of them sitting on the table beside the sofa. Since there was no television or radio or internet, she was content to read. She felt her French vocabulary improving with every novel she read. She had asked Louis if he would order her some physician's books so she might study, but that had been the day he had played croquet with Magdalena and could not stopped talking about the exciting game they played, so she doubted he even heard her mention it.

She had been surprised when Philippe found her salon in the attic last week. She had hoped it would be Louis who would have had the curiosity to find her there. He obviously was not missing her company so desperately as he talked of so often. It was after all his idea for the ballet, which was what was consuming her most of her free time. Now it seemed as if the ballet was his invention to distract her rather than please her.

Philippe must have been noticing what was going on. He was always at her side now when Louis was arm and arm with Magdalena. He now reminded her of the Louis she loved. He had the same kindness and devotion, which Louis used to have. He helped to fill the empty canyon in her heart that was once overflowing with Louis' love and attention.

Philippe came up quietly and sat next to her on the sofa. He must have left the naval show just after she did to be up in the attic so quickly.

"Elora, you are not happy. Things are not as they were with you and Louis; I can see this. I think we both know what is happening, even though you have not spoken of it. I tried to tell you Louis could not change his ways. It is not in his nature. He only wants a pretty girl to warm his bed. He will never follow through with the marriage. He has already moved on to Lady Magdalena."

"What? What have you heard? Has Louis said something to you? Have you seen him doing something?" The tears in her eyes were about to brim over.

"Compose yourself. I speak only of their public displays. I have only seen what you have, but there are whispers in the air of more."

She walked over to the window and sighed. "Philippe, have you ever been in love?"

"No. Well, perhaps. I do not really know. What is love to you?"

"So many little things.–Loving the whole person for his flaws as well as his attributes. Thinking of him with a smile every time. Being with him and feeling at home; trusted and safe. Realizing he is the last man you ever want to kiss."

"Perhaps I have loved."

"What happened to her?"

"She entered my life like a refreshing seaside breeze. It was not long before she made her choice whom she preferred at court and that man was not me."

"Well, she was an idiot for not realizing what a catch you are. I am beginning to feel the same way; with Louis preferring someone else to me."

Upon Philippe's suggestion they spent the rest of the afternoon joking and acting out random scenes from Shakespeare's plays. He accidently broke a chair when he stepped up on it while pretending to be Puck from _Midsummer Night's Dream_. The fun ended when she missed hitting Philippe and hurled a pillow out the window while pretending to be Katherina from _Taming of the Shrew_. They both ran to the window to look below and it had nearly fallen on d'Artagnan as he passed by. He looked up and Elora pulled Phillipe down to the floor with her, giggling the whole time.

She was going to run outside to go get it, but Philippe reminded her of the time. It was getting on to be the time for dinner. He left and she went to the opera to practice by herself. Tomorrow they would be doing their first dress rehearsal and two complete run-throughs of the performance before the big day Saturday night.

She ended up not going to dinner and Louis never came looking for her or maybe he did send someone, but they didn't find her in the opera. She was sure he was not missing her.

The next morning, she woke early to get dressed in her newly fitted costume. Dress rehearsal was always a thrilling day. There was so much energy in the air in the opera between the dancers and the musicians.

The hem of her chiton tunic needed a bit of shortening, so while the theatre seamstress was adjusting it Elora did some stretches on the barre in her chemise. There came a loud sound from the hall outside the opera, then the doors flew open. A crowd of the king's council entered with Louis leading the way at the front center.

She dropped her head down, not at all happy to see him, predicting they were to once again argue. She could not do this now, she had too much on her mind already and there were too many people around. She would have to shoo him away.

Beauchamp and Lully went flocking to him, welcoming his presence. She merely walked to the edge of the stage, with arms crossed. Though Louis did not speak in her direction he said he wanted to see how things were coming along and speak with her for a moment.

"Elora," His smile faded when he looked over the attire she wore. "Elora, what are you wearing in such a public place?" He came up on the stage and took off his blue waistcoat.

She held her hand out. "Louis," she decided to speak in English. "If you try to put that jacket on me I'm going to knock you down on your royal derrière."

"But Elora–" He took her by the hand and pulled her off to stage left, so there was not anyone in hearing distance.

"No." She shook her hand away from his. "We're in the middle of dress rehearsal, Louis. You can't just come in here and make everything come to a crashing halt. Don't forget this is what you wanted. The show goes up tomorrow, you can see it then."

"All right.–Can I at least tell you the news I came to tell you?–The treaty with Austria has been negotiated and signed."

She had not expected that to be the next thing to come out of his mouth. She had been very sure he was going to drag this treaty thing on for months. She was thrilled, no more than that, elated. "Really, that's great!" But then the excitement was gone when the image came into her mind of Louis and Magdalena sitting on the French throne side by side. How had the treaty been signed with that girl desperately grasping to win Louis' attention. "Any outlandish terms?" Would he get her meaning?

"None that I was not prepared to concede to.–Elora, what I most wanted to tell you is _she_ is leaving." He smiled, holding out his hand for hers. "Does this please you?"

"Yes," she sighed, taking his hand. "Louis, we need to talk about what's happened with us the past couple of weeks. There is a lot I need to vent about. And if we're going to get married soon like I hope then certain things need to be said."

"Elora, you know I love you! I am ready to speak about anything you wish."

"Okay, but not today. I have too much on my mind and to sum it up in one word it is Cassandra. Tomorrow will be a new day, let's talk then."

"Until tomorrow." He kissed her, most passionately.

She did not want to distrust him, especially since he got the treaty signed quickly on her request. She truly did want to trust him, but from what she had seen from his behavior she was not sure. Would this happen again and again with every new girl that caught his every at Versailles? Would it ever become more than flirtation and become betrayal?

For the moment all she said was, "Now get out of here!" She pushed him off the stage toward the door. "We have a ballet to rehearse!"

All he could do was chuckle. He was nearly out the door when he yelled to her, "Elora may I just have a taste of what is to come at tomorrow night's performance."

"Well, okay." She backed up about ten feet and ran, doing a front flip off the stage.

She could not help making a ta-da smile, with her arms forming a v to the ceiling. There was that look again from everyone in the opera. She guessed no one had ever seen gymnastics before.

Thank goodness Louis was quick to commend her on it or they might of tied her up and brought her out to the marble courtyard to be burned alive.

"Elora, enjoy yourself! I'm off to discuss the navy."

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Louis entered his chambers for the night, even now lusting after his dear fiancée. Since he spoke with her this morning about the treaty she seemed happy once again. He wished she could have joined him tonight for dinner, but they were still at work at the opera from what he was told. He was glad Elora took pleasure in the physical rigors of dancing. It acted as a cure for her constant boredom with the leisure life he gave her at court. Finding her half-dressed on stage was better than seeing her dressed as a man, fighting with his guards in the training arena.

After being undressed by his men he entered his bedchamber alone, wishing Elora were with him. The moment the door closed and he had walked a few paces a feminine voice from behind him said, "Your Majesty".

He quickly turned, seeing Lady Magdalena standing before him, wearing only a red chemise undergarment. He jumped back, not only from the shock of one of his subjects daring to be in his chamber without permission, but also that it was this particular lady. He would only expect this sort of misbehavior from a mistress or more likely of late, his fiancée. He questioned what she was doing there, even though he already knew.

"Your Majesty, I only wanted to honor you."

"Honor me. With what, my lady?"

"With my most prized treasure…my virginity."

"What has made you think I wish for this treasure?" His eyes began to wander to her large bosom. He had looked in that direction many times before, but now he had different thoughts in mind. His desire for Lady Magdalena began to overpower his honorable intentions towards Elora.

"It has been rumored here at court the Comtesse refuses to enter your bed." She looked up at him through her thick lashes. "Which was why I thought I would be welcome."

She pushed herself up against him, letting her hands trace the design on his robe. He could not push her away.

"My Lady," He practically choked on his words, as his manhood began to stir with desire. "You have been mistaken in my attentions toward you."

It was as if she did not hear his words. Her only reaction was to pull his head down and kiss him. He struggled with himself as they kissed whether he should push her away. If he did lay with her, Elora would be none the wiser. It had been so long. For once in his life though he had planned to do the honorable thing. If he were marrying any other woman and he did not love her as much as he did, then he would have no reservation in taking this young woman to his bed tonight. This was not the case though; he did love Elora very much and he fully intended to marry her. If he went through with this and satisfied himself at this lady's expense, would guilt overcome him? And what if Elora somehow found out? She would certainly respond badly; where his kingly position would not protect him from her wrath.

Louis separated his lips from hers the instant he noticed the bedchamber doors open, but it was not soon enough. None other than Elora came into view in the doorway! He quickly pushed Magdalena away from his person, giving care only to Elora. He heard Magdalena let out a frightened moan. She stood several feet from him, where she had been pushed, likely unsure of what to do. She did not even try to cover herself up. What was going on in her mind? He had hoped she was going to explain her fault in the situation, relieving him of the guilt, but she spoke not a single word to either of them.

Elora just stared, standing stiffly. He could not see her breathing. Without a single blink a tear fell from her eye. Her thoughts silently screamed to him through that solitary tear. She began to wobble, so in fear she was about to swoon he moved towards her. With quick reflexes, heightened by her apparent shock, she jumped back to escape his grasp; quickly turning and sprinting down the dark hall. She was a fast runner, especially since she was running away from him, but he followed her nonetheless. He cared not about decorum at this moment as he dashed down the halls after her, dressed only in his nightshirt and robe.

"Elora, please wait!"

"Why?" she screamed, still running from him. "Just so you can make up some lame excuse! You can't lie to me, Louis, I caught you!" Elora ran up the stairs as if her feet were not even on the ground while he was huffing and puffing to keep up with her.

"It's not as it appears. She hid herself in my room. It was she who had intentions."

"Yeah, right! Well you didn't exactly look too upset with her half dressed in you arms and you were _kissing_!"

Just as she touched the knob on her bedchamber door, he caught up with her, grasping her wrist. Unable to go any further, she turned to look at him with reddened, angry eyes and cheeks dripping with tears. He had not seen her looking so upset since the night he carried her from the chapel the night she found out she was pregnant. Now he was the cause of those tears and he hated himself for it.

For the second time in their short acquaintance she struck him with a right-handed punch that he never saw coming. She only hit him in the jaw this time, but it still accomplished her intent in escaping his grasp and hastily slamming her bedchamber door in his face. The pain was so sharp for a moment he thought she had knocked out a tooth. Before he could turn the handle he heard the squeak of the key turning the lock.

"You must believe me, Elora," he yelled through the door. "You asked me to be faithful only to you and I have broken no vow."

"You have broken every vow!–I believed you really loved me; now I wonder if I ever had your heart.–Deep down I think I knew you would be unfaithful.–I admit," her voice faltered. "I did not expect to be replaced so quickly, but that was my error. I blame only myself for thinking you could change."

"Elora, you are the only one I love. You are my _betrothed_ for God's sake; we must work through this. Please open the door, my love."

There was silence in the room. He wiped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. Then he heard the door unlock and Elora stepped out of her bedchamber, no longer looking angry. She must have thought it through and forgave him.

"I'm glad you brought that up, Louis. We are engaged." She crossed her arms. "We're not even married yet and you can't even keep the snake in the cage. You're obviously not ready for such a serious commitment. You were foolish proposing to me so quickly and I was an even greater fool accepting."

As the blood flowing through his veins chilled, he could only ask in a whisper, "What are you saying?"

She looked down at the trembling hand that wore the betrothal ring he had given her with all his hopes for a future life for them together. For a few seconds she fondled the ring. He saw her eyes cloud over to the not so distant memory of that happy night when he slid that ring on her finger. The moment passed, her eyes lost that reminiscent glaze as she pulled the ring off, opened his clenched hand, and placed it in his clammy palm.

Then he saw Elora take a dagger from behind and swiftly thrust it into his chest with all her might. The searing pain pulsed through him. In reality, she had not, more like her words had acted as the dagger. He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to tell her she was overreacting, but he could not form the words.

She shook her head, obviously seeing his devastated stare. "There's just no way I can marry you now." She turned to go back into her bedchamber.

He could not believe she just broken their betrothal. How could she not want to marry _him_? This was clearly not his fault, but her narrow mind would not see that. She practically had the crown on her head and she just gave it all up because of this one minor transgression, which was not a bit his fault. His kingly pride rose and anger filled his heart. "You cannot break our betrothal; I will not allow it!"

She turned to look at him, with a willful brow; her hand dropping from the door handle. He feared she might punch him again so he stepped back a little. "Louis, it's done. This doesn't have to be a mutual agreement. It's not like you can force _me_ to the altar. I'm not one of your subjects you can order around."

"I know, but you are still in a country under my rule."

"Is that a threat?" She moved up to him, hands on hips. "Is it?"

"No. I was merely stating a fact."

"Fine then, take back everything you ever gave me! Strip my title! Seize my non-existent fortune! Throw me into the streets with nothing, please! Throw me in a convent! Throw me in jail! I dare you!" Her tears returned. "Tonight you have stolen all of my joy and broken my heart. Anything else you do from this point on is nothing. So just leave me alone and let me suffer in peace."

"I need you."

"No you don't. You never did. As Colbert put it, I'm just a passing fancy. And my time has passed." With that she went in her room and closed the door not willing to listen to him any longer.

Before this night Magdalena had never been a threat to her. He could not understand Elora's venom. It was not as if she was an innocent flower herself. She did, after all get caught kissing Philippe several weeks back. How was his situation any different from hers? He had forgiven her straight off. He had been considerate and trusting, prevailing over his anger and jealousy, yet she could not do the same for him.

What exactly was she doing entering his chamber at that time of night? He had some weeks back given her permission to come to his chamber whenever she wanted, without the formal need of a summons. He wondered what she had been coming in to tell him. Perhaps she was going to spend the night making love to him and Magdalena had to be there to ruin it. How could he even have wasted one thought thinking of sharing his bed with another woman? The idea seemed crazy to him now, but that might have been because he was caught.

Colbert had made his explanations to the lady's chaperone the day she arrived. He believed things were settled between them. When he took walks with Lady Magdalena all he ever did was speak well of Elora. She had never before shown him any courtesy other than what was her cousinly duty. He of course, at that time, thought Elora's complaints were not only preposterous, but of an unfounded jealous nature.

Oh that Magdalena! She had better not still be in his bedchamber when he returned, he thought as he stalked back to his chambers. He hid the ring in his pocket; too ashamed to admit to anyone that he had lost his fiancée.

He still questioned how Lady Magdalena could have gained access to his chambers. Upon demanding an answer from the guards outside his room, they denied any knowledge of the lady's presence. They had only seen her run out of the room, crying, shortly after His Majesty ran out. He ensured his chamber was empty before he went to bed.

After further investigation the next day Louis found out she had bribed a servant to gain access to his bedchamber through the servant's door. He was furious and ordered that servant sentenced to the stalks for a week. He still did not know how he would reprimand Lady Magdalena though.

**Hi there! I know I sound repetitive, but I am sorry for not putting this up sooner. It is one of my longer chapters and I had to do a lot of work with it. I hope you enjoyed Chapter 25! The last scene is one of my favorites! God bless and have a wonderful week!**

**~L.B. Tempia~**


	26. Chapter 26

9

CHAPTER 26

The next morning Elora woke and perhaps for the first ten seconds or so she did not remember what had happened the previous night. All too soon it rushed back to her. The pain she now felt from the memory was stifling. It had been too real to be a dream, so it must have really happened.

She had missed dinner last night because of ballet practice and for the first time in weeks had been disappointed about it. She had thought it was time to talk with Louis about setting a date for their wedding. Hence justifying why she went to his bedroom to see him.

If she had only waited until morning she never would have known. Perhaps it would have been better that way. Little did she know she would find Satan's spawn kissing her fiancé. Her future, her life, her whole heart shattered as she pushed open the gilded door and saw them together. She knew what would have been happening minutes later if she had entered then. She did not know how long that had been going on behind her back. It could have been the first time or it could have been going on for days, even weeks.

It said something about a woman when her man strayed. It was never just the man's fault. She wondered what she had done wrong. Was it something she had said one time or something that slowly happened with time? Perhaps it was the avoiding and denying of the attraction between Louis and Magdalena that led to this. She should have faced the slut and she most certainly should not have left them alone so often.

Her mother was the only person she wanted to see. There was a sort of comfort that only mothers could give. She was not only deprived of her presence, but she was not even able communicate with her.

She heard a knock at the door; moments later it began to open. Thinking it could be Louis; she quickly got out of bed and pushed the door back to a crack. "What do you want?" she demanded.

"It is just I, Suzanne." She must have caught sight of her distressed face. "Oh, my dear, what has happened?"

Elora was so embarrassed about it all; she questioned whether she could bring herself to tell her. She fell to the floor in sorrow. Suzanne rushed in the chamber, going to the floor beside her.

She vented the entire incident with sobs and tears. "How is it possible I can still love him after this?"

"You love him for his strengths and his kindnesses and his heart. His sin against you is his weakness. No being on this earth is without weakness. If God forgives man his sins shouldn't we?"

At first she was not sure if she had heard Suzanne correctly. So to clarify she asked, "So you want me to forgive him right away. You want me to sweep this under the royal rug to save the king embarrassment. Well I won't. He won't get out of this that easily. If I go back to him he'll do it again and again because he'll know I'll put up with it. He won't learn if I forgive him."

"Oh, I understand." Suzanne stood, seeming angry. "You want to punish him. Is that what this is about? You're going to bring ruin to your life and most likely his too because you want to teach him a lesson. This is vengeance, Elora. This is just as great a sin as his."

"Don't say that, Suzanne!" she said, truly offended.

"You made a decision, with great consideration, to stay united with him for the remainder of your life. You did not have to tell me you love King Louis; I knew before either of you did. It was the day you said you struck him when he made an advance on you. His swift recuperation from that humiliation and the way you befriended him so easily afterward; I knew. He loves you and you him. Do not throw that all away because of _one_ indiscretion."

"It hurts too much. Infidelity is no small crime in the world of love. I may love him, but he's cheated on me. Whether he has been having sex with her or he simply kissed her that one time, he betrayed me. The trust is gone."

"I can only give you my counsel. I only want your happiness. Forgive him. I am not saying things must continue as they always have. Your relationship is forever changed from this. Yours is such a bond with the king you can work through this.–I have said all I can. I will leave you in peace."

No, Elora thought, she would never be at peace again. She wondered how and when Louis would announce to the court that the engagement was ended. Would he be doing it right away today or would he wait until after the performance. Oh the ballet, she had nearly forgotten. Why did all of this have to happen right before the ballet. She was a nervous wreck just because of the ballet, but now going out onto the stage with everyone looking at her, judging her. If they knew about the broken engagement they might boo her off the stage. They would hate her for disgracing their king.

A greater dilemma, she was going to have to see Louis tonight and she could not dread it more. She did not know if she could stand beside him in a crowd, no matter talk to him civilly.One glance in her direction from him and she would likely fall to pieces. She would not know what to do if she happened to collapse into tears in front of everyone.

Very early in that morning came Captain d'Artagnan, bearing a letter from Louis. She considered tearing it up, but she just had to know what it said.

_Dearest Elora,_

_We both spoke out of anger and anguish last night. I believe enough was said on that subject by both of us for the time being. I must ask of you two things. Please continue as planned with the ballet tonight. You have placed so much effort in this I would hate for it to have all been in vain. Also, please keep our trouble between us for the present time. I will do what is necessary when I can bring myself to say the words aloud. _

_Forever Yours,_

_Louis_

Trying her best to hide every emotion she was feeling, she looked up at d'Artagnan. "What do you know?"

"Nothing."

Oh, he certainly knew more than nothing. "Is that your official answer, Captain?"

"Yes. I would make a suggestion though. If you do not want courtiers to speculate you should wear some gloves to conceal your bare finger."

She looked down at her finger. "Everything it stood for was a lie. I had to give it back."

"You do not need to explain to me, Elora."

"How did he look when he gave you the letter?"

"Just as troubled as you."

"d'Artagnan, can you please accompany me to the chapel."

"Certainly."

They walked in silence until he bid her good day in the chapel.

Her conscious was so distracted, she hardly knew if she would be up to dancing tonight. She would never again have the chance to perform in front of an audience of such well-to-do critics again. She was not sure how they would like it since they were not accustomed to her style of dance.

She remained in the chapel for adoration until after noon. She did not leave until she was sure Louis had adjourned outdoors for his walk. After she ate a light lunch alone in her room, she went out to the gardens, taking a long, nature walk. She went deep into the grounds, where it was mostly all still forest. She was only biding her time before she needed to go warm-up before the performance. Tonight would end in turmoil for certain. She had never felt more anxious in her life. If only God would let her go back home to her time before tonight.

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Phillipe sat in the box beside his brother, waiting for the ballet to begin. Louis had invited the Morlaix family to join him as well. The Duc de Chartres arrived special just to see this performance. Christophe Morlaix was a good enough man, but if he had to choose his allegiance between king and prince he knew it would fall to Louis and not he.

Lady Magdalena was not to be found and Louis was not himself. Philippe could not decide whether Louis was bothered by the _fact_ Magdalena was not here or the _reason_ she was not. Louis did not make jovial conversation and he had not laughed once today. He merely stared at the stage even though the curtain was not yet drawn.

The orchestra began and curtain went up. Elora sat on a rock in a forest of wildflowers, busy daydreaming, whilst the God, Apollo looked on, admiring her beauty. Elora looked quite the part of Princess Cassandra, wearing a layered, violet gossamer chiton with a golden belt. The chiton was not full length and allowed full view of her legs from the knees down. Cassandra rose and began a dance of youthful happiness. As soon as she began to dance on the tips of her toes the courtiers were in all in awe. She continued to gracefully skip, jump, and twirl about the stage, until Apollo made his presence known.

First Cassandra was frightened, but Apollo's gentleness quickly wooed her. They danced together, with him twirling and lifting her. They danced back and forth across the stage in such unison; he had never seen a performance to compare. Then Apollo gifted her with sight of the future. Cassandra danced about in amazement and joy. Apollo advanced on her, expecting her to lay with him now. To the contrary she retreated from his touch. She refused him her maidenhood. He became angry and cursed her. Now no one would believe her foresight. He left her crying on the forest floor. The lights dimmed as the music faded to nothing. A very moving scene to say the least.

The lights shined again, only seconds later, and the stage had changed to the court of Troy. Cassandra sat beside King Priam and Queen Hecuba. Paris danced before journeying to a far off land. Cassandra interrupts him with her dark foreboding of this journey, which would light the fuse to Troy's destruction. All about her just laughed, not taking her seriously. She dances with Paris trying to prevent him from going on the voyage, but he still goes.

When Paris returned with his spoils, including Helen all of the characters danced and celebrated. Helen was beautiful, but could not dance as well as Elora. It was a beautiful display until Cassandra raced onto the stage. The music pounded with Troy's impending doom. Again Cassandra pointed out the destruction that one woman would cause. Paris became angry with his sister and pushed her aside. Helen replaced Cassandra on the throne. Everyone rejoiced whilst Cassandra was ignored.

The first act ended and Louis stood for a moment to stretch. Nothing but praises were spoken in the box and it was all in regards to Elora. Philippe could not help himself from whispering in Louis' ear, "With Elora's flexibility it should make for interesting bed sport." Louis would not even acknowledge his witty comment. He was so dry. Philippe could not understand what attracted Elora to him so much.

The second act began with Troy's enemies approaching, headed by Ajax the Lesser. There was a fight in which Troy prevailed. Then a miniature of the Trojan horse was rolled unto stage. From then on death and destruction ensued. All were either killed or captured as slaves. Philippe wondered when Elora would come back again. So much had proceeded without her onstage.

The lights dimmed and the set was yet again changed to the goddess, Athena's temple. Finally Cassandra returned to the stage. She bowed down flamboyantly and prayed to the statue. She danced with sorrow, crying for her lost people who she could not save. Ajax bounded on stage, frightening Cassandra. He looked at her with lustful eyes. Cassandra furiously looked for a place to run, but found she was trapped. Ajax closed in on her. They danced together beautifully, even though she was supposed to be fighting him off. He pulled her behind the statue and raped her. Next Cassandra was shackled, but still she prophesized. Even as a broken woman Cassandra danced on her toes and smiled grimly as she let Ajax know of his looming death. She was forced aboard the ship with the other prisoners when the curtain closed.

When the curtain opened the entire cast was hand in hand approaching the end of the stage. The applause that filled the opera house could not have been muffled for anything. Even Philippe was moved to stand to applaud the great performance.

All of the courtiers adjourned to the North Hall for refreshments. Philippe eagerly awaited Elora. The other dancers had rolled in at least ten minutes ago. She finally appeared and serving attendant was eager to hand her a delicate goblet filled with the king's finest wine.

"Ah, Elora," spoke the king. She looked at Louis and just as quickly moved her gaze away as she approached him. Louis took her gloved hand and toasted to her accomplishment. He commended her to all the court regarding her brilliant portrayal of the cursed Trojan princess and her remarkable dancing talent.

Elora seemed bored with his speech and anxious to detach her hand from his. Philippe had thought for sure they had reconciled yesterday. The treaty was signed, the archduchess was not present and would soon be gone. Yet Elora still seemed aloof, as she finished the entire contents of the goblet all at once.

No one seemed to hear what she murmured in Louis' ear, but both their looks were graven. The king at once nodded his head and went in the other direction as Elora moved through the crowd. She came to where Philippe stood with those of her closer acquaintance.

"Hello everyone, I'm happy to see you. Especially you, Chris! I didn't know you had come back."

"Well," Christophe was all smiles for Elora. It was obvious he was still in love. "Thérèse kept on and on in her letters, I simply had to see it for myself."

"And was it worth the trip?"

"Indeed. Knowing you made it even more memorable. Unfortunately, I will not be staying long at court due to business back home."

"I hope everything is all right."

"Yes. There are just many duties for me to perform at harvest time. It is important I be there."

"Elora," began Thérèse as she kissed her cheek. "Why have you been so modest? Why have you never shared such talent with us before?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess it is simply that it never came up."

"I once saw her dancing and her legs split completely apart in opposite directions as she went to the floor," added Philippe.

"Elora," Christophe spoke. "You always manage to make others stand in awe of your majesty." He handed her a white rose he had on his waistcoat. "Becoming queen will not be so great a leap, I think."

She only half smiled. Did he see grief in those eyes? Lady Thérèse must have noticed it too and directly asked her if she was well.

"Tonight, everything is perfect.–Well, my friends, I am exhausted. Before that wine goes too much to my head, I'm going to say goodnight."

While Christophe was busy kissing her right hand, Philippe took it upon himself to kiss her left. He noticed something very peculiar; there was no ring on her finger. For only a moment her eyes warned him away.

There were two facts he knew of Elora; she rarely wore gloves and she always wore her betrothal ring, whether it clashed with the color of her attire or not. He could hardly believe it was possible she was no longer betrothed to his brother. Nothing had been announced. If it were so, he wondered who was the one to end it. He had to find out for certain tonight.

Philippe bided his time before excusing himself for the night. He did not rush to leave, for he did not want anyone, especially Louis to make any assumptions to where he was going.

Though she said she was going to her bedchamber he did not quite believe her, but that is exactly where he found her. She was alone, likely her servant had not expected her back so soon. She welcomed him in with no sign of hesitation. Elora sat on the trunk at the foot of her bed and removed her white, silk gloves. He had been correct, she did not wear her betrothal ring.

"Will you tell me?" Philippe asked, breaking the silence.

She looked at him with weary eyes. Slowly, she rose and began to walk towards him, likely having no idea how enthralling she appeared in doing so. When she was only inches from him he was about to ask her again, but she held up a single finger to his lips. Resting both hands on his shoulders, she inched upwards as if she were about to kiss him.

She was an odd girl, with odd ideas; if he was misreading her actions and met her lips he might lose her friendship. So he stood perfectly still, waiting to see what she would do. Her lips could not have been more than a hairsbreadth away from his. He could feel her soft breath on his lips. She did not go further though. He could not understand why she was standing by him for so long with her lips nearly meeting his.

Then she moved her face away and buried it in his breast as she began to weep. Her embrace was tight and yearning for comfort. So he embraced her in return, as a brother would. Though she was in distress, this was not a romantic moment.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I never should have done that. It was not fair to you."

"Do not weep, Elora. You have done nothing you need reproach yourself for.–Has Louis harmed you?"

She huffed through her crying. "Does a broken heart count?"

"Yes."

"I caught him kissing Lady Magdalena."

He pursed his lips; unsure of whether to be glad or upset with this news. Louis had Elora all for himself, yet he wasted his energy on the Austrian princess. How infuriating. His brother's bad luck with Elora was his good luck.

Without hesitation after he asked who broke the betrothal she admitted it was she. Every day he liked her more and more. No wonder no one knew about this. Louis' pride was bruised. Had a woman ever truly rejected him before now?

"Not many have your courage, Elora." She smiled up at him. "Louis was never a proper match for you. Let him have Austria. I would happily treasure you for all time and never break that promise. If you could reconcile yourself to be mine I would _never_ do anything to hurt you."

"Philippe, I just broke up with the man I imagined to be the love of my life. I need a friend now, not a lover."

"Elora, I have always loved you. Will you not marry me? I know I shall likely never make you a queen as Louis can, but I know I can love you more. I will always be a faithful husband to you," Philippe happily declared.

"That's _very_ sweet of you and I am sure you would be faithful, but you know I can't. I'm sorry."

"But we get along so well together. There is so much we have in common to keep us happy for our whole lives."

"I couldn't. I just need to be single for a while. I've been considering leaving Versailles."

"Would you go back to the Americas?"

"No. There is absolutely nothing for me there. I'm thinking of renting a room in the city. It would be nice to continue performing with the dance troupe I've worked with all these weeks. I'm sure if I asked they would allow me to join them. The problem is I've never really been on my own. I don't understand how the world works here. Getting around and getting things done will be difficult. Lord, I can't even tell you the value of a coin. I have twenty-seven gold louis' in my possession. How long would I be able live on that? I don't even know where to begin.–You know whose fault this is? It's Louis' fault! I can count on one hand how many times Louis has allowed me to leave the grounds. It's his fault I'm helpless in this world."

"You may be helpless, but you are not friendless. There are many who know you who love you and will help."

"I couldn't ask anyone. I'd just be going from depending on Louis to depending on someone else in the same way. I need to do this on my own, Philippe.–Would you mind going? I'm really tired and I think I'm beginning to get a cold."

"You're ill?"

"Yeah, just the past day or two. It's not too bad, though I don't think I've seen the worst yet. At least the ballet is over. That took a lot of energy out of me and on top of it the drama with Louis, I was bound to get sick."

"Well you should rest however long you need so you may recover."

"Just a few days I hope. I hate those colds that linger for weeks."

He bid her good night. As soon as he closed the door he heard her inside coughing. He prayed she was not underestimating the extent of her illness. He wished she had not turned down his offer to love and marry her, but honestly did not expect she would have him. He hated that she still loved Louis after he made her suffer so. She should despise him as he did. In the very least, she was beginning to see what a tyrant Louis was.

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Elora kept to her rooms for the next five days. She had a full-blown chest cold, nothing quite as deadly as Louis had, but it still knocked her out of commission. She felt it wise to ask Suzanne to take the week off, but of course that did not happen. Suzanne still came to bring fresh decanters of water and some light meals. Elora was insistent that she merely leave the things on the table by the door and not come in the room further. She did not want her catching what she had, for she would likely get much sicker.

The doctor came knocking at the door, but she would not admit him. She insisted to him she would be fine with a little rest. She just wanted to be left alone. Later she wondered who had sent to doctor to her. She hoped it had been Philippe, rather than Louis.

She hated coughing and having to use so many handkerchiefs to blow her leaking nose. Her head was swimming with excess secretions. She did not want to raise her head from the pillow. The best medicine would have been a television in her room, but she had to do without of course.

After three solid days of suffering she began to feel she made it past the hump of the cold. She had not heard anything, but hoped that Louis had announced the broken engagement. She would not hide it any longer. Once she was better and getting around, if someone asked she would tell them the truth. She had kept Thérèse at bay for nearly a week now, but she would certainly be the next to know if she did not already. Thérèse had sent a note inviting her to go riding the day after the ballet, but she sent her excuses and promised they could hang out when she was feeling better.

Bouquets of flowers poured in not only from Louis, but from Philippe and Chris too. It was too bad her nose was so blocked up she could not smell any of them.

She had a lot of time while lying in bed to reflect on what happened and so much came to mind. She had always thought that God had blessed her with a miracle. She was given a great gift not just of time travel, but also of having a love stronger than time. Now she decided this was a curse placed upon her, but she did not know of any great wrong she had committed to deserve it. Everything she thought was true had turned out to be a lie. Her heart was breaking slowly and painfully and she felt her mind was falling apart.

Now she was not sure if she reacted hastily that night. Suzanne seemed to think so. Philippe took her side, but for the wrong reasons she feared. His proposal was nice, but not welcome. If he liked his brother a little bit more she was sure he would have defended him.

What would her other friends think? Would they take their king's side as well? If they had only seen what she saw they would be convinced. Sure, Louis was only kissing Magdalena, but they were both only half dressed and only feet away from his bed. That kiss looked like it was leading to the bed too. The way his arms were around her, it was not just an embrace; he was holding her tightly, passionately.

She wished things could go back to the time before they had been engaged. They had been so happy then. Louis' every thought had been on her and his eyes had only seen her; that is before Magdalena came into their lives.

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Christophe walked with his sister out in the gardens to the Colonnade. Cesaire hurried behind them to catch up. He had likely been late coming because he was adorning himself in the mirror, hoping to look his best for Thérèse. Elora had sent Thérèse a note this morning averring she was feeling well enough for a turn about the gardens with her friends.

Christophe had been certain they would be waiting upon her, yet when they arrived she was already there. Sitting on the steps beside the great statue in the center of the garden. She looked well; miraculously so quickly healed from her ailment. He wondered if she had even been ill at all. In the past she had used illness as a pretext to excuse herself from courtly duties. Yet when she spoke today her voice had a certain coarseness to it. Now that he looked at her a bit more closely her nose was pink.

Though she spoke with her normal, jovial conversation, there was something different about her he could not quite place. He had first sensed it the night of the Cassandra Ballet. Thérèse was anxious to tell her all the court news from the past week. As if Elora was really interested in the vain exploits of other courtiers. Still Elora smiled and listened to her with interest. Then the subject of a certain Archduchess from Austria was referenced. Elora seemed particularly interested in this.

Christophe knew very well the archduchess was a threat to Elora in many ways. Thérèse had kept him well informed while he was away. He was first introduced to Lady Magdalena on the eve of her farewell gathering. She was exactly as he had imagined her, in both manner and appearance. What he did not observe was any unbridled behavior from the king. If anything his majesty presented himself as indifferent. Thérèse insisted there was a substantial alteration from previous weeks.

Elora made only one comment after hearing the news of Austria's departure, "Not soon enough." There was no jealousy in her voice, only bitterness.

"Cesaire and I have some news as well," Thérèse announced proudly. Elora smiled knowingly, but said nothing as Thérèse took Cesaire's arm. "We discussed it last night. We are to be married."

"Thérèse, you ninny, why didn't you tell me this first? I would say that is the most exciting news that could be spoken of today!"

Elora embraced and kissed both of them congratulating them with joy in her heart. She asked them how soon they would marry. Christophe knew for certain, personally informed by Mother, they would not marry until spring, but Thérèse was certain they would marry by the new year.

Dance became the new topic of conversation. Thérèse was determined Elora show her a dance from her homeland, since they now knew she was more accomplished than she let on.

"There are so many dances; I hardly know which. I would love to show you all how to swing, but…well I guess I could try. We can try at least the basics."

"Swing is not as extensive as your ballet is it?" Cesaire asked nervously.

"Not really. Once you know the moves you can have a lot of fun with it. The thing is, swing is fast; probably faster than anything you have ever danced. It will be difficult without music."

Elora clapped the beat they would be dancing to and she was correct it was quick. She insisted they would start slow to learn the steps. She would dance the gentleman's part and Thérèse would be the lady.

He was proud his sister was keeping up with Elora. She twirled Thérèse away from her and then pulled her back into her in another twirl. Soon the pace became faster and fell into the correct rhythm Elora wanted.

Finally came the time for Thérèse and Cesaire to pair up. She instructed the two of them for a few minutes before turning to him with an extended hand. "Want to give it a whirl, Chris?" She winked at him.

Of course he was up for a challenge, especially if that time was spent with Elora in his arms. They all danced for what seemed like hours, completely forgetting about joining King Louis for his afternoon walk.

It was Elora who first noticed the king's presence in the Colonnade. When she stopped dancing Christophe could not help bumping into her. She did not seem to notice; she only stared with venom at the king. He was a little annoyed with him as well. More than anything he despised unwelcomed interruptions.

King Louis was infamous for interrupting at the worst moments. It was as if he could sense others were having an enjoyable time without him and he wanted to join in.

When they curtsied Elora did not, she merely crossed her arms. Chris wondered what all of this was about. When he last was at Versailles their affections for one another could not be surpassed.

"Stopping for a short goodbye, Elora, before leaving your friends forever?" questioned Louis with jealous anger in his voice.

What exactly did he mean she was leaving? The king could not be sending her away. Now Christophe took notice she was no longer wearing her betrothal ring.

Thérèse put the question to her what the king meant. Elora only became troubled further. "I was going to tell you today. I am leaving Versailles. I had to break end my relationship with the king. The only person I intend to leave forever is the royal ass standing beside me."

Christophe could not believe what he was hearing. What a shock! He could not imagine what had precipitated such a division and change of heart. The king must have done something utterly horrid for Elora to speak about him now with so much malice. He was not sure whether the king was sending her away or she was deciding to leave. He had never heard anyone speak ill of the king in his very presence. Elora would surely find herself banished if she continued.

"And how exactly did you find out I was leaving," Elora demanded of the king. "I've told no one. Have you been intimidating my maid-servant again; pressuring her to get some information? How often do you pump her for info about me? Daily or on an hour to hour basis?"

She spoke in English to the king. Christophe was not sure whether she did it purposely to exclude them or speaking in her language came naturally when she was distressed. King Louis was the only person he knew of whom she spoke so freely with. Chris had never before told her he was completely fluent in English. He always planned to surprise her one day, but she did not speak it frequent enough in his presence and the opportunity never came to the table. He did so enjoy hearing her speak so naturally. There was something more assertive as she spoke in her native tongue. He had never quite heard her speak so quickly either.

King Louis looked to Cesaire, Thérèse, and he. "You may leave us."

"No." Elora yelled. "I can't be alone with you. They're staying. It's not as if they have any clue what we're saying, so it's not like I could embarrass you."

The king then beckoned them to remain as they were, according to Elora's wishes.

"Elora, you must stop this. You have been quite ill. I only wish to know you are well and safe."

"It's not your business anymore, Louis. You have no right to know. You did not seem to care about my well being last week when you were with her."

"Do not say it in such a tone. Nothing was going to happen as you imagine it."

"Oh, shut up. You may be able to lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me. Just leave me alone, I can't be around you."

The king only stood there, standing his ground.

"Fine, if you won't leave I will!" She began to run out of the Colonnade, but Louis stepped in front of her. "Big mistake, Louis! I will pass through."

"Elora, do not do this. You are breaking my heart."

"No, you've broken mine; the moment you gave a small part of yourself to that girl. You were unfaithful. Nothing can fix that."

"Why will you not listen to me. I was not unfaithful. Let me tell you the truth of it!"

"No! You can no longer make demands of me. You'll only twist the facts to make yourself look innocent and you certainly are not innocent. You're a liar and a cheat! We, what we had, it's finished and I'm leaving. My bags are already packed."

Christophe could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Between the king's lecherous actions and Elora's response to his behavior, Chris did not know which was the greater scandal.

She began to walk around King Louis toward the chateau, but he grabbed at her skirts and spun her around. "Do not walk away from me! I have not dismissed you."

Cesaire put his hand to Christophe, in restraint. Indeed, if Louis were not the king he would have stepped forward in Elora's defense. Being as it was, Christophe did not move, he merely watched on as the king assaulted dear Elora.

"Stop it, Louis." She shoved him away. "I really hate you at this moment. You treat me like a caged animal."

"Yes indeed, my chateau must certainly be a suffocating, caged area for you in all the acres that entail it," the king spoke sarcastically.

"Versailles may be a golden cage, but it's still by definition a cage."

"Elora, you are not leaving."

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, Louis! Not after what you've put me through! You can't stop me!"

"Can't I? Let me show you a taste of my power, Elora Roux. Perhaps you will not like being out of my graces."

"Oh, you're so full of yourself!"

"Guards!" Two guards suddenly appeared. "Escort the Comtesse de Valréas back to her bedchamber and see that she does not leave the chateau grounds."

"The strikes just keep piling up, Louis. It's like you want me to hate you more than I already do." Elora turned to face the guards. Elora slipped off her heeled shoes and looked as if she were truly prepared to fight. "Pierre. François. I know you have to do your job and I do not hold it against you, but I will not be going with you willingly."

Then Elora fell into a fit of coughing. She had coughed a few times as she scolded the king, but not so bad as this now. She held her chest to support herself. Louis then approached her with his handkerchief. She took it and wiped her face. She smiled at the king briefly and motioned to hand it back to him. King Louis moved closer to her; perhaps too close when one knew how angry she was. He then gestured, as if he were going to embrace her.

She quickly used her knee to strike the king in the groin area. Louis did not fall, but he was obviously stunned. Christophe nearly laughed. Though he did not yet know the entire story he was almost certain King Louis deserved such an assault to his royal person.

Elora then sprinted in the opposite direction of the guards to the other gateway out of the Colonnade. Unfortunately for Elora two more guards appeared before her. They must have been waiting for her behind the shrubs. They brought her back to the king, as she wiggled furiously to escape their grasp.

"Elora, this is how–"

"What, Louis? This is how you treat the woman you're supposed to love?" She was crying real tears. "Just let me go."

Though Thérèse understood little to no English, she still appeared to understand what was transpiring. She had been nudging Christophe to say something since King Louis first grabbed at Elora. He finally felt strength to step forward between Elora and the king. "Your Majesty, if I am not being impertinent I think Elora is not favoring remaining at court. Might I put forward there be a concession on both sides of this? –Would you allow Elora return to Chartres with my family?"

The idea had truly just jumped into Christophe's head, but why should she not come back to Chartres. Thérèse adored her company and even Mother was warming to her. Chris did not mind the scenario of having Elora all to himself for several weeks.

"I do not know," said the king. "She may take the chance to escape from Chartres. It would be less secure."

"I can assure you, I will swear to my honor. When you both are ready she will be returned to Versailles. I will keep her safe."

"Elora," spoke the king. Christophe shifted a bit to the right do Louis could again see her. "What say you to this?"

"It will be going from one cage to another, but if it will get me away from you, then I say yes. I want to go with Chris and Thérèse."

The king nodded. The guards released her and she walked over to Christophe and hugged him. "Thank you, Chris. You are a true friend."

"Understand, Elora," said the king. "If I am to allow you this freedom, you must not abuse it. Or I will have to hold Christophe Morlaix responsible for your disobedience and I will not be merciful."

"I would never do anything to hurt someone I care about. It's crushing you couldn't live by the same motto."

The king made no reply and Elora seemed to be finished conversing with him. She used Christophe's shoulder for balance as she slipped her shoes back on her feet. She looked at the king one last time and walked past the guards toward the chateau.

**It is always my hope you enjoy each new chapter I post. I love feedback, so please don't hesitate. I apologize for not updating with new chapters quickly, but I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my writing and never have enough time to dedicate to it as I wish. I am about to vacation for two weeks, without computer access. I will do my very best to post Chapter 27 by August 7****th****. I pray my sluggishness in posting does not make you lose interest in the story. As a teaser I have over 40 chapters all together, so please be patient with me. Thanks for your support in reading and reviewing The Celestial City! ~L.B. Tempia~**


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

Elora prepared for her journey, to leave Versailles with the Morlaix family. She had packed with Suzanne's help all of her possessions, which pathetically did not fill even two trunks. Suzanne would journey ahead of them with the Morlaix's servants. There was a manservant of Chris' whom Suzanne liked spending time with very much. Gervaise was his name; he was perhaps only a few years older than his master and had been with him practically his whole life. Elora was not sure how serious the attachment between the two lovebirds was because Suzanne was not much for talking about things like that. Suzanne did make very clear though that it would be an advantageous match to whoever married Gervais. Elora wished her the best, hoping she might at least find happiness.

They were leaving so quickly, Elora barely had time to say goodbye to all she wanted. She had gone down to the guard's barracks to see d'Artagnan and the other men. Philippe was probably the most emotional of all. He did not want her to go, but understood her reasons. He often left Versailles for the sole purpose of escaping Louis' all-consuming ego. She never imagined she would see any of them again, but she did not tell them that, she could not bear to.

Since her blowout with Louis that day in the gardens she had not seen nor spoken to him. She would not bid him goodbye, that was for certain. Louis' _generosity_ in allowing her to go to Chartres was the last remembrance she wanted to have of him.

Yet as Elora walked out of Versailles Chateau with Thérèse she looked back over her shoulder and saw what she had been certain to see. Standing in the upstairs window, in the Hall of Mirrors, was Louis. His sorrowful eyes pierced through her already broken heart. She could spare no pity for him; for her sorrow could be no less than his. The day she and Louis first met, when she bowed down before king and court, she never imagined the day they would part would be under such conditions. That first day he made a pass at her she learned quickly he was just a man. Somewhere in between then and now, she had been in such awestruck wonder of Louis' magnificence. Looking at him from below, with a window and fifty feet separating them, she saw him once again as a man, a cheating creep.

"Elora, what is wrong?" Thérèse's voice brought her back. Elora did not quite know how long she had been staring back at him. "Your pace has slowed. Do you hesitate to leave?"

"No," she breathed heavily, shaking her head. "I was just remembering a dream."

She sat beside Thérèse and across from the Douairiere Duchesse and Chris in the closed carriage. It was not quite as spacious with four bodies occupying it. Elora looked back at Versailles Chateau as they moved farther and farther from it. The grand chateau became smaller and smaller in the distance, until she could no longer see it at all. She would miss it. Though she had called it home for such a short period of her life, she had grown very attached to it and the people in it. The idea of it never again being home ate at the pit of her stomach, just as the idea of never returning to her family once did.

The Douairiere Duchesse noticed nearly immediately that Elora was not wearing a corset and felt it necessary to mark it aloud. She had not one suitable excuse and the Douairiere Duchesse insisted she wear one from now on for propriety's sake. If she only knew Elora had only worn her corset perhaps five times since coming to France she would be appalled.

Then the Douairiere Duchesse asked her about her breakfast, for she looked pale. First the insult to her attire, now her complexion! Elora nearly said, "It is customary for one to look terrible, when one's heart has been broken," but she did not. She of course had eaten nothing since last night and had to explain how her digestion became rather delicate when traveling by enclosed carriage.

Chris took advantage of such a comment to insist, for her health, that Elora ride with him in his open chaise once they stopped to switch horses in Rambouillet. Though the Douairiere Duchesse did not favor the idea of her son spending so much time alone with Elora, she had to concede it was the best option. Chris explained that he kept one of his extra carriages stored in Rambouillet for convenience sake when traveling from Versailles. Elora was surprised to hear the Morlaix family owned precisely ten different carriages. She was never quite sure how rich the Morlaix's were, but she was getting a better idea. By the looks of the carriage they were in now, this one was probably the Rolls Royce of carriages.

"Comtesse," began the Douairiere Duchesse trying to begin civil conversation. "Is it difficult for you to leave this scene of public triumph?"

"Triumph? I have had no triumph at Versailles." Elora truly hoped she was not speaking of Louis. She thought Thérèse had spoken with her mother about the broken engagement. She could not imagine she would bring such a thing up at this time.

"Come, come, do not be modest with us. Your dancing as Cassandra has advanced you in the eyes of many with power."

"Yes, I noticed since then everyone has wanted a piece of me. Invitations poured in. Though I am not sure I could ever truly befriend myself to anyone who only finally took notice of me when seeing my talent in dancing."

"Perhaps that was their only opportunity to finally introduce themselves to your person," added Thérèse.

"Maybe, but their opinions will revert back to what they once were when King Louis finally makes the necessary announcement." The Morlaix family quieted and seemed embarrassed. "Forgive me, I know how to kill a pleasant conversation. From now on you will hear nothing but pleasantries from me."

Once in Rambouillet, Elora waited in the salon of a respectable inn while Chris fetched his chaise stored in the stables a few streets away. Thérèse and her mother had already pressed on in their carriage. She sat with a glass of sweet sherry wine as she patiently waited for Chris to return. She was glad for the break. Though she had not become sick during the ride, her stomach was not completely settled.

Tipping her head to look through the window when she heard the sound of a carriage along the cobblestones, she saw Chris pulling up in the chaise. She hurried outside to meet him. He moved to help her up, but she shooed him away. There was no need of such formalities being away from court. They too pressed onward to Chartres. Chris hoped to get there before it got too dark.

When she first traveled to Chartres for the ball Louis had designed an alternate route, though a longer journey a smoother drive. She preferred this, since she was no longer pregnant. There was no use in turning something into two days that could easily be done in one.

"Chris, I hope your mother does not feel I'm imposing on your generosity."

"Not at all. Mother thinks highly of you. I do not know what you said to her when you were last at Chartres, but you made quite a good impression with her. Do not mind how she picks at things, it is simply her nature. It is how she reveals she cares. She has spoken on several occasions on how you will make a splendid queen." He looked at her for a moment. "Forgive me. I should not have spoken out of turn."

"Chris, it's okay. It was a nice thing to say." In reality, his mother likely was just so thrilled Elora was not going to be a certain duchesse that any other position would do, even queen.

"So will you tell me in advance, Elora, if you plan to runaway from Chartres?"

She laughed. "I would never do that to you. I made a promise.–I'm hoping after some time passes and Louis has cooled off, I can write to him and convince him I don't need a man around to protect me."

"Maybe you do."

"Don't you start that.–There are two things I know. I know I can never go back to Versailles and I cannot stay with you at Chartres forever. If I am destined to continue living in this world I must find my own way, no matter how fearful I am."

"Noble, but I still cannot sanction the idea. You are a lady and deserve to live as thus."

There was no talking him out of this. She was not up for the task of convincing him of her common background or her history of working for a living. "Why have you never told me about your knowledge of the English language. Do you merely understand it or can you speak it as well?"

"I can understand you well enough, but I have not spoken English in quite some years. Your elision of certain words is at times difficult for me to decipher."

She could not help but smile. "Well, we'll just have to work on that. What if Louis sends you on a diplomatic mission to England someday? You may need it to get around."

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Thérèse arrived home to Chartres perhaps an hour before Elora walked in through the doors. She hoped Elora would find some peace here. Thérèse wished she had taken more pride in learning languages like her brother. She honestly did not understand more than five words of English spoken that day. Thankfully Chris was a good brother and had enlightened her on what had been said between Elora and the king in the gardens.

Elora could not have been bolder in announcing her views about infidelity to the king. Though the king had reacted with equally reckless emotions, Thérèse could clearly see they were both still very much in love with each other. Louis was very obvious in his feelings as he forced into secrecy the group of them in the gardens who had viewed Elora's outburst. Since the king did not wish to announce the breech in the betrothal Thérèse was certain he was not about to give up on the union.

Thérèse had thought she knew passion with Cesaire, but in seeing Elora and Louis together involved in such a dispute she realized hers was nothing compared. Even as the royal couple argued with such violent words, they could not keep their hands off one another. Cesaire and Chris would certainly agree; they had seen the king doing his best to cling to the love he shared with Elora.

Whether Louis and Elora could ever be reconciled was in God's hands. Only He knew if they would ever be united again. Thérèse prayed they would, for she had never known two people so matched for one another.

They had a quiet night settling in and all retired to their bedchambers early. Christophe was the last to bed after walking Elora to her door. Thérèse hoped her brother was not going to allow himself to fall in love with Elora once again.

After breakfast the next morning Christophe went about his daily business and her mother was already busy with writings letters to friends she had just parted from. Therese had expected this and was delighted to have Elora all to herself.

They busied themselves with going to the garden in search of lavender. Elora was pleased to hold the basket as Therese used the shears to cut the stems. Therese enjoyed having Elora as a companion to her. Perhaps if she had a sister she would be like Elora.

"We are due for some real juicy girl-talk, Thérèse. Don't hold anything back from me. I have to know, how did Cesaire ask you?"

"It will not be too painful a subject for you? I feel so guilty being so happy whilst you are so unhappy."

"What?" Elora shook her head. "No. I have nothing but happiness in mind when I think of you two finally together."

Comforted she began, "After dinner, he excused us both from the dancing and retired with me to the salon. We talked of things we had done that day and before I knew what was happening he had taken my hand in his. He told me his heart was overflowing with love for me. He said he could not imagine sharing his life with any other woman. Marriage to me would be the greatest honor of his life. After he spoke those words I was left speechless, so I kissed him. I do not think I had ever been brave enough until that moment to kiss him. It was always he who bent his head down to kiss me. I felt almost wicked in doing so, but I think God will forgive me since we are now betrothed."

"Thérèse, I will pray for you both to have a long, happy life together.–Do you want to travel after getting married? Do you want to have children right away or do you want to wait a little while?"

"We did speak of traveling in southern France next year. Children would be a blessing, however soon God will grant them.–Elora, do you think our children will be able to grow up knowing each other?"

"Thérèse, I'm not sure I'll ever marry, not to mention having children. I would love it though."

"Is it truly hopeless to imagine you will resolve your differences with King Louis?"

"I can't just forgive him and go ahead and marry him after what he's done. How can I ever trust him again after finding him literally in the arms of another woman."

"Well that does not necessarily mean…"

"Thérèse, it was in his bedroom. They were dressed for bed. They had embraced each other and were kissing when I entered."

Thérèse's mouth shaped an O, now understanding the situation. "But Elora, he is king. Things such as this will happen. Men have needs."

"No, Thérèse, don't you for one second believe that. Men have lusts. It is controllable, but society seems to encourage it so they do it without a guilty conscience. Not only does it spit on the sanctity of marriage, but it might as well be bigamy. It is not right and I will not stand for it; especially in the man I intend to marry. I could not marry a man who would not exclusively love me all the days of his life. If he gets away with this now what will he think he can do once we're married? I want to be able to trust my husband fully. I want a husband who will be completely faithful to me. Louis has failed to be that man. How long would it be before he cheated on me again; a month, a year? And by then we will be married and it will be too late to do anything. It's not like the pope hands out divorces like loaves of bread. And why would he? I'm sure he fully expects a king to take a mistress, whether he's married or not."

Thérèse sympathetically hugged her. "I know what the king did was inexcusable, but can you not forgive him this one transgression? Perhaps he has learned from this and will never again falter."

"I wish it was that simple."

After supper Christophe insisted Thérèse pluck at her harp with some dancing music. He was itching to dance with Elora, the most accomplished of dancers. Elora of course was very modest, but agreed to the dancing. The Duchesse looked up from her needlework every few minutes.

In the lavender perfumed air, all the tasty sweets they could imagine were before them. The night was filled laughter and gaiety. There was no ceremony as there was at Versailles. Most importantly, Elora seemed happier than she had seen her in weeks.

That was how their nights and days were spent together for many days to come. All the peace and comforts of home surrounded them. Elora was becoming quite a member of the family.

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As the days slipped away, time passed as though Elora were in a pleasant dream. She could barely remember the day of the week, not to mention the date. After breakfast one day, Thérèse suggested a walk to Chartres village so Elora might become better acclimated to the area. The village was diverting if nothing else. Elora could have been no more excited about the idea. She found Thérèse equally as excited about their excursion, but for a different reason. Thérèse had never been allowed down to the village without a chaperone. Elora was a welcome change to the typical chaperone, for she was in fact hardly a chaperone at all. Out of the two Elora was seen as the one who needed to be most guarded. The Duchesse however did not seem to worry at the idea of them going together, not as Chris did. Whether he was concerned about her or concerned about Louis' feelings in her actions she did not know.

Each carrying an empty basket they made their way out of the castle, down the hill toward the village. Though it was sunny the air was becoming cooler; they were surely seeing the change in seasons to autumn.

When they came into the village it was certainly bustling. Elora's eyes widened to all the shops and different tradesmen busy at work. She was very interested in seeing the midwife, but when Thérèse said her task was to go for supplies at the apothecary shop Elora was once again thrilled. Primitive pharmaceuticals were something she imagined would fascinate her once she delved into the craft.

Upon entering the shop it was rather dark. There were draws at all walls, from ceiling to floor. Still if that were not enough the room was crowded with tables of all sizes supporting countless jars of herbs and such. Monsieur Mathieu Alambret the proprietor came out from the back room, politely greeting Thérèse. She introduced her to him, stating how well versed she was in the field of medicine.

"I have studied with physicians in the past," Elora added.

"So you are a healer?" questioned Monsieur Alambret.

"I like to think so, at least I'm on my way to being one."

"And how familiar are you with the herbal arts?"

"Very ignorant, I fear. I did not work with the physicians at that capacity. I would love to learn more about all of this though. It's amazing that you find so many remedies from these plants."

"Any questions you might have, I will be glad to answer.–Now, my lady, what do you need from me today?"

"A spring of alehoof, plenty of poppy to last mother about two weeks, and a handful of dove's foot, please."

Elora began looking through the draws and asked what certain things were used for. Since Monsieur Alambret was busy with Thérèse, his son, who was apprenticing, came from behind the counter to better inform her. She had thought such things would be simple, but oh how she was wrong. It seemed more complicated than modern pharmacology. Just one herb, depending on what part one used (bark, leaf, stem, seed, root) and how it was prepared or mixed, could have a dozen different uses. Whether the treatments were actually beneficial was yet to be known by her. It was not as if professionals of the 17th century did clinical trials in a controlled environment to monitor the effectiveness of the drugs.

After they left the store, Elora could not help saying she wished she could apprentice to Monsieur Alambret. Thérèse of course thought such an idea to be absurd.

"Elora, sometimes I do not understand your thinking at all."

They traveled home by the river. While closer to town the washer-women were at the river busy at work, some cleaning others dying linens. As Elora walked in awe of such sights Thérèse walked on not even taking notice of the commoners working around her. All through dinner Elora told the Morlaix family of the apothecary shop and all that she had learned. She knew for sure she would not be waiting long before again going back there to learn more.

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Elora sat peacefully by the lake. Originally she had planned to sit and read, but at present she was content to sunbathe and behold nature in its artless perfection before her. The lake was on the Morlaix's property overlooking the forest to her right and the village farther down the hill to her left. Though civilization was within view the lake still had a sensation of wildness about it. On the three acres of lake there were reed beds and lily pads. Every few minutes a fish jumped up out of the water to catch a fly and splashed back down into the water.

She dreamed of what life could have been like if she had loved Chris and agreed to marry him. All of the pain she had felt all these weeks would never have been. If Chris were her husband this would be her home too and she would be happy at this moment.–Maybe.

Just then she glanced toward the left and saw Chris coming her way from town, riding his steed, Flêche.

"Elora, you are alone? Where is my sister?"

It seemed he always came at her with questions. "Chris, I don't have to be watched every single minute. If I was going to runaway I would have done it by now.–Thérèse is inside working on her tapestry and since I can be of no help to her I figured we could both use some alone-time."

"I do not disturb you?"

"No, you're welcome." He proceeded to tie the horse's reins to a nearby beech tree and then sat on the grass beside her. "Chris, you really have a nice set-up here. It reminds me of a Monet painting."

"Elora, dare I ask who you mean?"

"He's just the best artist is the world back home. He…Oh, Chris look at the bird that just dived into the water to catch a fish! What is that?"

"You have never seen a kingfisher before? Yes it is a jewel to view with its stunning blue and chestnut plumage. They love fresh water.–The flora and fauna here is superior, I think."

He must have meant superior to Versailles and she supposed it was. Versailles' gardens had a very man-made look about them.

"Elora, will you tell me one of your stories?"

"What are you in the mood for? A romance, adventure, mystery, thriller, fantasy?"

"I've heard you tell enough stories with heroines. Thérèse was very pleased with the story about the five daughters looking for husbands and the other with two star-crossed lovers that find themselves on a sinking ship. A story focused on a hero would suit me today."

"Okay no mushy romances, a manly tale." She rubbed her hands together, gazing up at the sky as she perused the library in her brain. "Hmmm.–All right, I have one in mind. Edmond Dantes was a merchant sailor…" So she told him the story of _The Count of Monte Cristo._ Betrayal, prison, lost love, treasure, revenge. The more she told the more she remembered the first time she read the book. It was right after she saw the movie. Anne and she had just gotten their ears pierced together at the mall. That was the same year she met Rob. Yuck, the very thought of Rob still gave her chills.

Chris fully enjoyed the story and was pleased with the ending. "Elora, you should put pen to paper some of these stories you tell."

"They are not my stories to write. I'm sure the true creators, wherever they are would not appreciate it. Just enjoy my retelling, that's all that I want."

"Elora, will I ever know your secrets?"

She smiled and tapped his hand. "Perhaps someday when I feel the time is right. "

He took a deep breath and looked back at the castle. "Will you come back to the house with me? The sun has begun to set."

"No, you go ahead. I'm content to sit here a while longer."

He reminded her of the time supper was to be served before he fetched his horse and headed to the stables. The cool air was a relief after such a long, hot summer without air-conditioning. She remained by the lake another half hour, until it got too cool and dark for comfort.

When Elora returned to the castle, she thought she heard someone crying. She hurried to the parlor. Chris must have heard her coming for he nearly crashed into her as she entered the room. He hesitated to speak. Elora looked past him and indeed saw both Thérèse and her mother with tears in their eyes, even Chris looked quite graven.

What could possibly be making everyone so upset? Then her thoughts jumped to Thérèse. Perhaps something had happened to Cesaire. Her mind jumped from folly to disaster.

"What is it?" She felt the heart chilling fear of the unknown staring her in the face. She leaned upon the latch of the door for support.

"Perhaps you should sit, Elora." He moved to take her arm, but she held out her hands to stop him. Nothing could be worse than being babied at this moment.

"Just tell me!"

"It is the king. There has been an attempt on His Majesty's life. Cesaire writes, the physicians fear it to be a mortal wound."

"No!" She grabbed at him. This was certainly worse than what she expected. "Is he dead?"

"Not yet. Not that I know of."

Elora's eyes gazed downward in a searching manner, though she could not see much. Her vision was fading like an ever-darkening tunnel. She made a quick dash for her bedchamber, with Chris and Thérèse following her. Her heart was pounding harder than ever. In her mind were two options; wait to hear that Louis was dead or to go to him herself. She went into her trunk and retrieved her duffel. After emptying it out on the bed to rid herself of the useless objects inside, she repacked it with every medical supply she had, anything that could possibly be of help to Louis.

"Elora, what is all of this?" demanded Chris.

She looked at her things on the bed she had not repacked; basically every possession she had from home. An hour ago all of that was the most priceless things she owned, but now it could mean less than rubbish to her. Nothing mattered, except Louis!

"It's nothing, only trinkets of memories I cling to. If I only had time to explain; this was not how I wanted you to know."

"Elora, I am sure the king is being looked after diligently, do not rush so!" Thérèse pleaded.

"I have to save him if I can. He has to know how much I love him! I just can't let those hateful words to be the last words I spoke to him. Oh God why did I leave him!"

Once Elora had finished she slung the duffel over her shoulder. "Goodbye, my friends." She continued to run, now towards the stable. She prayed Gustave had not yet unsaddled Flêche.

"Elora!" Chris yelled from behind. "You cannot leave now without an escort. It is past sunset. You do not even know your way."

"I don't care! I have to get to him! I have to! I know the general direction out of town. I have to go now!"

She galloped the horse out of the stable. She did not even know what kind of injuries Louis had. She knew nothing about surgery. The most she had seen was her brother getting stitches in ER once. Did surgeons here even know how to stitch up an internal wound? Did they know to cauterize? Would they use sterile technique?

Louis could be dying right now! Perhaps he would he be asking for her. She prayed she would make it to him in time. So many memories were flooding into her conscience her head was spinning. Every touch, every glance, every loving word from Louis was now more precious than ever.

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The stable boy was busy saddling Christophe's second best horse, but he was not doing the task fast enough for him. So Christophe pushed the boy aside and finished the job himself.

Not two miles from Chartres there he saw Flêche on the side of the road and Elora was not on him. A group of farmers crowded in the field beside the road. He sighed, "Oh Lord!"

As he grew closer, yes there was Elora lying on the ground, covered in dirt from the road. She was bleeding from a wound on the head and from her nose. His concern grew when he could not wake her. The horse must have certainly thrown her. No one had seen what happened, but one of the farmers lent him a wagon to take her back to the chateau.

The doctor was sent for and arrived at the chateau just as Christophe did. From a brief assessment in the back of the wagon the physician determined it was mainly cuts and bruises, but he would be able to assess her better when she woke. Then he hemmed when he looked at her left arm. It was turned outward at the shoulder.

"Let us get her inside before she wakes. I will have to relocate her arm."

Mother joined them as they hurried with Elora across the chateau. She mentioned something in a frustrated tone, like "Disaster followed Elora wherever she went". Christophe supposed it was true.

They placed her down on her bed and proceeded to relocate the arm into the shoulder. It was Chris' duty, as a willing participant in this, to hold her steady on the right side. The physician picked up the dislocated arm, maneuvered it around a bit, and pushed it back into the shoulder.

Thérèse came in with some ice-cold compresses, anxious to be of assistance.

Whilst the physician was cleansing the wounds on Elora's face she began to stir. A moan of pain and agitation were the first sounds to come from her lips. Christophe was anxious for the physician to give her something for pain, but he did not want to just yet. He explained he was still yet to have complete knowledge of her injuries.

"Damn Chris, why couldn't you have had a Mustang car in your barn instead of a real mustang."

"I think her to be delirious," spoke the physician.

"No this is the lady's customary discourse."

"Have you heard anymore from Versailles? How is Louis?"

"I know nothing more. I have been too busy caring for your life."

"How bad is it?" she mumbled

"You tell us, Elora."

She began to move, bend, and wiggle. Of course her left side had born the brunt of the fall and she was naturally sorer there. Before the physician had a chance to tell her she asked if she had dislocated her shoulder.

"I knew I felt this before. When I was seven I climbed a tree to jump onto a big trampoline, but when I hit the trampoline I catapulted off onto the ground and did this to my shoulder and fractured my arm in two places. You'd never know it now. I have full range of motion and no scars."

She further assessed herself, not fully trusting the physician. She even had him observe if her eyes were dilating properly to light and darkness. He was not sure what that would prove, but she seemed satisfied with the results. Finally she asked, "Would I be able to take some pain medicine now?"

She soon fell asleep after taking the dram of medicine and Chris escorted the physician out.

Christophe never should have let her go off on her own, not in the state she had been in. He knew she was not very accomplished on the horse. He had perhaps once seen her gallop the beast, but all the other times she kept to a slow trot. She had known her limitations until today. He had promised to keep her safe. She had been injured severely while in his care. If the king lived, what would he say?

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Elora awoke in the middle of the night, thirsty for water. The stretch was painful, but she still reached for the cup beside her bed and took a brief sip. She hated keeping her arm in the sling, but she knew it was for her own good. It had been more than twenty-four hours since she first heard Louis might be dead. Still no more news arrived from Versailles. She was frustrated with Chris because he did not seem to care. He was content to sit and wait for another letter to come from Cesaire. She in fact did not have the same patience in her.

She had been well medicated throughout the day though and had been quite unable to leave her bedroom. She looked at her watch. It was well past midnight, the whole house would certainly be asleep by now. She was alone, without Suzanne to chaperone her thank goodness.

She stood resolutely and made her way to the door. On second thought, she went back for her cape and slippers. She knew she could not mount a horse with her arm this way, so she untied the sling and let her arm drop down to her side. She was very sore, but she knew she could tolerate it. She picked up her duffel with her good arm.

When she reached for the door handle, it was cold; she quickly stopped herself from turning it. This was silly, she was not dressed for such a journey and imagined she would not be able to ride a horse successfully.

Remembering the night Louis stood in her room and told her he would take care of her and the child she carried she reached for the door handle again. Remembering the day he first took Magdalena's arm instead of hers she stepped back from the door. Remembering his eager and loving words in his proposal she went for the door handle for the third time. Then seeing the door handle and how it resembled the one on Louis' bedchamber door she remembered the night that crushed all her dreams of happiness; she could not bear to touch it.

She battled with herself this way for several minutes until she heard someone clearing his throat. She looked around and noticed a shadowed figure sitting on a chair on the far side of the room.

"Who's there?" she gasped.

She hoped it was merely Chris waiting around to scold her for getting out of bed. She squinted not able to tell who it was. The figure got up and slowly began to walk towards her, not breathing a word. The room was so huge and with only the dim moon to give light from her window it did not help brighten the room, but she could tell by his confident walk exactly who it was.

"Is it you?" she asked in an exasperated whisper.

He stood only inches from her, wordless. Now seeing him clearly, it was Louis. What began as a whimper as she looked into his sorrowful eyes became a nearly hysterical fit of crying. She quickly pulled him into her embrace, hugging him tightly, completely ignoring the sharp ache in her left shoulder. After a couple of minutes of holding her within his embrace he pressed his head to hers and kissed her. She had almost forgotten how passionate his kisses were.

"I thought for sure you were dead," she cried.

"Bullet grazed my shoulder. In truth, I find you more injured than I." He touched her scabbed brow.

She loved him so much, more than she ever knew when she thought God would take him from her. Now that she knew he was alive and well she did not know what to feel. She knew she was grateful for his life, but she was not sure she wanted to reconnect with him again. The facts had not changed. He had still done all the things that broke her heart.

Being so close to him now it was difficult to think badly of him. He did love her. Since things had ended between them, not only did she lose a fiancé, but more so her best friend. Her bond with him was to such an extent, she felt he had possession of one half of her soul and in leaving Louis at Versailles part of her was missing. Everything felt so empty without him.

Tsking her he said, "What on earth were you up to at this time of night?"

"What do you think I was doing?"

"Executing a poorly planned journey perhaps."

She purposely made a face of puzzlement, trying to make it more a mystery than it really was. She was not sure she wanted him to know yet or even at all that she wanted to get back to Versailles for him.

"Elora," he reasoned. "I had an express letter from the Duchesse informing me of your accident. What a backwards way of trying to return to Versailles on your own! The Duc should have restrained you."

"In his defense, you know nothing short of royal guards can restrain me. He couldn't have stopped me, so don't blame him."

"Why were you so determined?"

She licked her lips before answering. She knew he was trying to trap her. "You were injured and I thought I could help."

"Is that all?" The back of his hand lightly slid across her cheek and she got the tingles.

"You know it's not.–I realized you not being a part of my life would be unbearable.–I couldn't lose you." She tucked one of his loose strands of hair back behind his ear and perhaps a split second later realized she was falling right back into what she had so desperately sought to escape. She stepped back from him a little. "Louis, you didn't have to come here. I'm fine. I'm sure your court will be missing you."

"There is no doubt in my mind where I should be at this moment." He took her hand and kissed it. She could not help loving the fact that he was sure to let his lips linger on her hand. "I have very much been missing you. I love you so much, Elora."

"I never doubted that, Louis. I love you too."

When she saw the delight in his eyes she snapped out of her daze. She now realized she was destroying all she had done to end the relationship; that all her heartache stood for nothing. She was forgetting her principles, but then she reminisced on the kiss they shared when they were first reunited.

"Elora, I cannot live without you. You are kindred to my heart to a greater extent than anyone has ever been. You are my lover and my truest friend. Before I woke beside you all that engrossed my being concerning women was the manner of undertaking the challenge of bringing a woman to obey my desires. Elora, you have changed all that and I am a better man because of you.–I was never attracted to Magdalena. There was never any liaison. There has only been you in my heart. I spent time with her because she is my cousin and having never seen her before now it was my duty as king to make her feel welcome. I admit when you came to my bedchamber it appeared…well it was not as it appeared. For one moment when she pressed her lips to mine I did respond, but I _truly_ was about to call for the guards to escort her back to her chambers. You are the only one I want to make love to. I wish you would believe the sincerity of my words.–I have felt the harshness of life without you in it and I despise it. My days are no longer agreeable unless you are part of them.–Tell me what to do to make you trust in me. My eyes and heart are for you and no one else. I would never dishonor our betrothal. Please love me and honor me by marrying me."

Louis reached into his pocket, pulled out the engagement ring, and held it out to her. Her heart and mind had been at war since she first met Louis. Her heart was telling her to go for it; that Louis was the beginning and the end of the world and she was never going to meet another man like him in any century. He was the love of her life and they should be together for all time. Her mind was telling her to get over him. He cheated once and he will cheat again. That she was going to love someone else even more when she was grown up and maybe back in the 21st century.

Precisely when Louis pulled out that ring the war ended. Her heart had won. This was the exact moment, the moment that a girl waits her entire life for. This was the moment of realization; she had found her soul mate. She now knew for certain she had to spend the rest of her life with him. He looked so hopeful and more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. His right eye winced and his relaxed jaw trembled ever so slightly.

Elora smiled, speechless. She held her hand out and he slid the ring on. He was overflowing with happiness. He kissed her, gently scooped her into his arms, lifting her as if she weighed only a feather, and whirled her around.

She now accepted Louis was always faithful to her. She had made a reckless mistake breaking the engagement. He had kissed Magdalena, but she herself had also committed that same sin with Philippe, which Louis never took the opportunity to remind her of. She just wanted to put the past couple of weeks behind her.

Louis was very concerned for her well-being. He was quite determined to help her put her arm back in the sling.

"Louis, I love you so much!–Let's get married before anything else goes wrong."

"How soon exactly?"

"Within the month."

"That is hardly time just to get the invitations out."

"So don't. Let's just have a little wedding with those we love most around us."

"Elora as much as I want to marry you tomorrow I cannot cheat my people out of such an important day."

"I knew you would say that."

They hemmed and hawed over it for a few minutes and decided on January first. Elora giggled when Louis finally managed to slip her arm back in the sling. They lied down in bed together. She smiled as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"There is one more thing, Louis. You see, amongst all the hysteria of me leaving here, attempting to get to you, I did something wrong and the Morlaix's noticed.–They saw my possessions from the future."

"What did they say?"

"I don't remember. I don't think I really gave them any chance to ask questions. I'm sure they have questions now. Thérèse was the one to place everything I had tossed on the bed back into the trunk. Louis, we will have to tell them something and perhaps now is the time for the truth."

"Elora it is your decision. I will warn you, they may not be as open minded as I was on the subject. I will always protect you, but it may be that you will never be able to call them your friends again."

"I have to hope. I will talk with them tomorrow."

"I will be by your side, of course."

"I think it will be better to do this on my own, Louis. I'm sure they will feel ambushed enough with only one person telling them the crazy truth. You know saying the words, 'I traveled back in time' sounds really insane. Even, 'I'm from the future' is no softer a blow. Now I wish I had told them long ago, then maybe they would not hold it against me for lying to them for so long."

She was so glad to be falling asleep in Louis' arms. Peace finally came to her and she closed her eyes finally certain of her future.

**Dear readers, **

**Thank you so much for reading The Celestial City! I really hope you are enjoying it! Chapter 27 was a lot of fun to write. Please don't hesitate to write a review for this chapter, I really love reading your feedback! I'm working on Chapter 28 now and it will prove very exciting I think. I'll post it soon!**

**L.B. Tempia**


	28. Chapter 28

11

CHAPTER 28

Sitting through a very formal brunch with the royal brothers joining them was a welcome turn of events. Christophe was even relieved to see not only King Louis alive, but that he was hardly injured in the least. Mother had gone from being devastated about Louis, to frightened of the prospect of Philippe becoming the next king, to the excitement that her son would have been closer in line to the throne of France if Louis had in fact died. Christophe probably would have thought more about such a possibility if he had not been so preoccupied with Elora's mishap with his horse.

After the surprise arrival of the king last night nothing could jar him further. Christophe had already fallen asleep when his manservant woke him to announce the royal carriage was in route to the castle. Indeed he glanced at the clock as he clothed himself in his green robe; it was past two in the morning. He could not imagine why such a carriage would be arriving. If the king were dead there would surely just be a letter sent. If he were being summoned back to court they would not send such a carriage. One of the brothers had to be arriving. If Louis lived it would certainly be he, but if he were now dead perhaps the prince would be coming to take Elora back to Versailles. Everyone knew Prince Philippe was just waiting for Louis' demise before he took everything his brother held dear for himself, not leaving out Louis' dearest love. Whoever it was, he knew it had been the last day he would spend with Elora as an unattached lady.

The gilt carriage arrived, completely dirtied from the muddy roads; so much so that if the royal banner did not fly no one would know it was such a fine carriage. The footman had not a chance to jump off his seat before King Louis pushed open the door himself and disembarked. Immediately following the very alive king was his brother, the prince. The king looked unharmed from such a _bloody attack_, as Cesaire had made it seem. Christophe would blacken his eye when next they met for weaving such tales.

The king's appearance was healthy, yet worn as if he had not slept in days. Christophe could not finish two words before the king interrupted. Concern for Elora's well being were the first words from his mouth. Philippe's interest was just a keen.

Of course King Louis insisted he be taken to Elora's bedside immediately, without taking time for libation or even removing his travel attire. He knew not what went on once the king entered her room, though his hope had been Elora would quickly expel him; he knew that would not be the case.

Whilst Louis was busy making amends with Elora, Christophe was busy seeing to the needs of the prince and arranging for sleeping quarters to be quickly prepared for the royal brothers.

This morning at brunch, between Elora's smiles and Louis' jovial spirit, Christophe knew what was to follow after the meal. Indeed it went something like, "We have reconciled and the wedding will be on the first of January." Christophe could not say he was disappointed or even surprised. The fortnight they had spent together in his home he would cherish. Once again her place was at Versailles, which was where she would likely be returning to posthaste.

Elora asked if he and Thérèse would have time to speak with her in private sometime this morning. Christophe was interested in what she could have to say to them. He agreed along with his sister and they adjourned to the parlor immediately. She took a long look at Louis before leaving the room, as if she were wishing he were to follow. Yet he seemed to have his own plans in speaking with Mother and Prince Philippe down the hall.

Elora had them sit, whilst she paced the room. "You've seen the weird-looking belongings that came out of my bag. It's time to tell you both the truth; what I should have done long ago."

She stood facing them both, as if she were about to tell them another story from her land. She had let her hair down again today with only a small cap to ornament it. Her cheeks were flushed, matching the color of her pink gown quite well. Her manner was nervous, apparent by her wringing hands. He had been sure Elora would never tell him the truth. He knew what he had seen on her bed, but assumed Elora would just give him another cryptic excuse like she always did when things did not make sense to him.

"I am sorry to burden you with this." Thérèse was about to object to the statement, but Elora would not be interrupted. "For a burden it will surely be. I must tell you, for I cannot leave your imaginations to make sense of it.–I've prayed and conquered my doubts; I'm sure you will believe me."

Christophe thought it sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than them. She could not have been too certain she could trust them if she were only telling them now because they saw some personal articles that they should not have.

"Elora, nothing you could say would make me turn my back on you," began Thérèse. "I will always be a friend to you."

He wished he could join in Thérèse's comforting words. Instead he said, "Elora, this secret is hurting our friendship, not preserving it. I can no longer live in ignorance; I am ready to hear you. Let the burden come upon us."

"Prepare yourself. You will doubt my words. Everything you know is about to change." Elora shook her head. "Certainty will become uncertainty."

Christophe felt certain what she had to say was just a woman's drama. He could not have been more wrong.

"In April, I did not arrive at Versailles in a carriage or horse or even walk. I was home in America one night and woke the very next morning in King Louis' bed." He was perhaps more confused than his sister at this moment. Thérèse seemed worried, for she put her hand on his arm. "I was born…and raised…in the twenty-first century, more than three hundred years from now. I am from a future time."

Such words sounded like a jest, but were spoken in total earnest. He did not know what to think. Indeed he had never imagined such an account.

"What?" Chris mumbled. Feeling a certain discomfort sitting while she was standing above him, he stood. "I do not understand. What story are you telling now?"

"This is not a fiction told before a fire at night. This is fact; this is my life. I grew up 329 years from now. This, and you, right now, is history.–It took me a few minutes when I woke to understand where and _when_ I was. The possibility of traveling back in time was never a thought in my head, yet here I am. I would not have believed it if it hadn't have happened to me. I did my best to explain to Louis, as I'm doing with you now. He believed that God sent me here to him for some divine purpose. I wish I actually knew what God's plan is."

"You are saying you traveled through the fabric of time while you slept?" questioned Thérèse, finally getting over the shock and standing. Christophe always looked to his sister in how to appropriately react, but even she looked unhinged at this moment.

"Yes. I slept through the whole thing, whatever it was."

"What is the future like?" Thérèse asked, still awestruck. That was her first question? His sister must have broken with reality as well.

"Well, everything is very advanced; the culture, the society, the style of living, and especially our modern innovations, which is why everything here is so archaic to me. You've seen the stuff that I came here with. Inventions for convenience and discoveries benefiting health flourish in the 21st century. People have stronger immunity to diseases and can live to be a hundred years old. Buildings can be built a hundred stories high. Journey's take hours instead of days because of faster forms of transportation."

"But you are a comtesse from the Americas," insisted Christophe, refusing to listen to such fancies.

"In my country, The United States of America, I had no such title. People aren't defined by the social ranking of nobility or commoner in my country. I've only been a comtesse for about seven months. Louis invented my identity when I came here."

Sweat dripped from his forehead, so he patted his face with a handkerchief. This day was getting worse and worse. "Elora, this is nonsense. Is this the only story you could invent as an excuse for your eccentric behavior? I will not stand here to be insulted with lies."

He tried walking from the room, but Elora begged him to stop, grabbing him by the arm and holding on for dear life. Her acts of desperation had no end. "Please Chris! I wish I could make you understand. You have seen every day how I do not fit into your world. My behavior may be eccentric here, but back home it's perfectly normal. Women have been liberated there. By my generation, I was allowed all the freedoms and opportunities of men. I grew up in a world where women are equal to men in all things. I had independence; I made my own decisions. I attended school since childhood, learning side by side with boys my age. I have been attending college for the past two years, studying to be a physician. The future, my time, is very different from here."

"The future! Hah!" His arms went up in the air. "Blasphemy. Sorcery. This is what you speak of?"

"No. Without God this could not have been possible whether it appears sacrilegious or not. I can see how evilness and witchcraft can be the first explanation to come into your mind, but it's simply not true. I'm not a witch or anything of the sort; I'm just a girl." She shrugged her shoulders, seeming so sincere and innocent.

"A girl from the future," Thérèse added taking her hands. "I was not certain what to say until now, but Elora nothing about you is evil. Do not let Christophe's words hurt you.–Our Almighty Father is full of unforeseen miracles. I am so happy God sent you to us."

Elora released a sigh of relief and tightly embraced Thérèse with her good arm. "Thérèse, you would not believe what torture it has been keeping this from you. Having to choose my words carefully. Never wanting to flatly lie to you. I have been dying to tell you! Oh how good it feels now that there are no secrets between us!"

Elora turned to him now, surely hoping for the same reaction, but such was not within his power. "I need time, Elora. I have seen the proof of your tale, but…I must go." If he remained any longer he would say and perhaps do things no nobleman should.

Christophe rushed from the room, leaving Elora in tears. He made his way outside, so perhaps he could breathe a little better. He had never imagined such words to come from Elora's lips. He was partial to believe her, but everything he knew, every sense of reason in his mind forbade it.

She had told him once that from the truth he would either believe her a liar or insane and it was true. He was not sure which of the two was worse. No other confession could have wounded him more. This secret she had kept from him until now, true or not, made their connection seem a farce from the beginning. Every feeling he had felt for her before today had been betrayed by that secret. He knew what he had seen lying on her bed that day. He was certain those objects were of an occult nature. By her explanation they were just futuristic effects.

From the sound of rustling leaves behind him, Christophe knew someone was approaching. King Louis made way directly to him and it appeared as if he had something on his mind.

"Chartres," the king did not hesitate. He took him by the shoulder and led him to the nearest bench. "Do not be afraid. I know Elora has just enlightened you regarding her past and the thought of it is frightening. I was rather beleaguered myself when I first came to an understanding of it."

"So you legitimately believe the veracity her tale?"

"Yes, but it goes beyond what she tells us. Her character, her very essence proves it to be truth. Elora is from time so much more advanced in everything. She understands and has knowledge of more than we can ever imagine knowing. She has learned from tutors about our ways and the ways of the generations to come, as we once learned about Charlemagne and Saint Louis. Her history is our future. She has lived with creations of such grandeur to make our splendid style of living at court comparable to living out in the forest without provisions.

"When Elora first came here she could not believe how undervalued women were. Females are left undereducated, forced into vain, shallow existence, with no option but to make her life's dream to marry well and bear children. I think she resented me for a long time for believing such was the only path for a woman, rich or poor. Oh the lectures I have received about the capabilities of women in a man's world. She is still determined to become a physician and I cannot bring her to reason."

King Louis proceeded to remove a flat golden case from inside his jacket pocket. "They no longer need to paint portraits in the 21st century. A machine was engineered to create a mirror image of a scene, a two-dimensional duplicate. Elora had this with her in her money pouch and she gave it to me."

The king opened the case. Christophe could hardly believe what he saw. It was an image of Elora standing on the stairs of a dwelling that must have been her home. In her hand she held up a parchment, as if it were an important document she was proud of. The brush strokes were so small he could not see them. Elora's hair was shorter, with a strange broad-rimmed, flat, black cap atop her head. She wore clothes as a man might wear, but still unlike any attire he had seen before. The black robe that she wore unfastened looked too large for her size.

"God almighty!-Such an image was not created by man, but machine, you say?"

"Yes. She tells me civilized people usually have this machine on their person all the time in one form or another. The populous loves taking photos of special moments in day to look back on with fondness."

"What does she hold?" He pointed to the portrait.

"A certificate given when one completes twelve years of education. She had the second highest academic standing of a large group of scholars. She said it was quite an achievement."

Christophe could not take his eyes from the image. Everything was so vivid and real. The shrubs were so green and the flowers were such a brilliant pink. It was truly the most beautiful image he had ever laid eyes on. Finally Louis closed the case and returned it to the security of his pocket.

"Chartres, you see no one could fabricate the things she has told us. I believed her almost immediately and she has kept me in awe every second since. You will notice, now that you know, every fiber of her being personifies a futuristic woman. I have transformed a short haired, trouser-clad, outspoken girl to a well-dressed, polite lady, but the essentials, those attributes that make everyone love her, have remained. Do you understand me, Chartres, everything you have loved about Elora is what you are hating her for at this moment."

Now that Christophe thought on it, this answered nearly all of the questions he had about her. Bad manners; self-assured countenance; no discrimination in whom she befriends; no experience riding a horse; disgust with ladies finery; unique style of dance that no one has yet seen nor heard of; high standards when it came to romance and marriage; so many simple things she did not know, but detailed knowledge of science and medicine. She had always omitted something from her conversations and this was the last piece of the puzzle that was Elora. She was from the future; positively amazing.

"She tried to tell me once, you know. She spoke the future and of her aspirations and I made light of it. I thought she was rambling about nothing. I thought them foolish ideas. If I only would have said, _I support you_, she would have trusted me." If Christophe only had, she would have definitely been his wife by now. "She speaks openly to you of the future? She answers any questions you have?"

"Yes, always. I'm sure she will be just as candid with you now. She is very good at painting a picture in your head with her descriptions."

"This does not seem real, Your Majesty."

"You will grow used to the idea. Remember, however difficult it is for you, it is a hundred times more difficult for Elora simply being here, no matter rising to nobility and keeping such a secret.–I am glad someone else knows. If anything ever happens to me, can I depend on you to protect her?"

He took a deep breath. That was quite a favor the king was asking. Two hours ago Christophe would not have hesitated. Now knowing such a history, Elora's needs had doubled in his eyes.

"Chartres, I only ask because if my brother were ever to become king he might…I worry for her."

"Your Majesty, cousin, I understand everything you have said. While I live Elora will be kept safe." They shook hands on it.

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Through the window Elora watched Louis talking with Chris. She wished she knew what they were saying. Would she at last be pronounced a witch; she was surprised she got by this long. Yet as the two spoke it seemed as if the conversation was going well.

Philippe knocked at the door and greeted her. She went over to him and hugged him. "I'm so glad you came, Philippe, but you didn't have to. I'm fine."

His concern seemed to grow the longer he looked at her injuries. She had to assure him it all looked worse than it was.

She sat on the bench by the harpsichord with Philippe next to her.

"Elora, I assumed I would be seeing you again when that shot was fired at Versailles, but I must say I did not expect to be the one coming to see you. I suppose with you and Louis both dancing with death, it has been the mutual establishment for your reconciliation."

"That was when I knew for certain in my heart I could never live without him." She tapped at the black keys on the instrument at random, wishing she could merely play, _Mary Had a Little Lamb_. She had taken violin lessons for one year when she was nine, but she and her parents had learned very quickly she was not very musically inclined. She had told Suzanne once she could play, but thank goodness she never had to prove it or it would have been a very embarrassing situation.

"I commend you, Elora, for being a better person than I could ever be in your shoes."

"What do you mean?" He took hold of her index finger and knowledgeably pressed it from one key to another. Before she knew it she was hearing a familiar tune she had become used to dancing to at Versailles. She smiled thrilled that she was actually playing a tune, though it was really Philippe who was enabling her.

"In forgiving Louis and agreeing to marry him even after his infidelity."

"Well, let's just say I finally listened to his side of it and figured out the truth. I understood that perhaps we were both at fault. It was not much of a compromise agreeing to go on with the wedding. I do love him."

"What if another lady comes by who catches his eye?"

"Then he better prepare himself to lose a very cherished appendage." They laughed. Philippe touched her slung arm.

"Really, Elora, falling from a horse…disgraceful."

"I know," she laughed. "What are you going to do with me?"

"When you are queen you cannot be doing things such as that."

"I know."

"I wish I could prevent you from getting hurt; keep you safe."

He was getting a bit too sentimental, so she stood, distancing herself from him a bit. "Thank you.–Now that's Louis job again, but hopefully I can do the best job at keeping myself out of trouble.–Did anyone ever find out Louis and I had broken up?"

"No, I do not think anyone even suspected. Betrothals to kings are rarely ever extricated."

"Ah, that figures.–So tell me about the shooting. Were you there? Was it bad? What happened to the shooter? Did you find out why he did it?"

"We were having tea in the gardens. No one saw that man until the shot rang out. Louis collapsed. The captain of the guard had been making rounds of the garden at the right time. Nearly as soon as the man got out one shot, Captain d'Artagnan had already killed him."

"He's dead? So I guess we'll never know." She walked back to the window, still wanting to keep an eye on Louis and Chris. Out by the bushes they still stood conversing.

"He was likely a fanatic," added Philippe. "It matters not, he will not bother us again."

"Hmm, unless he had accomplices."

She saw Louis coming back indoors and excused herself from the room. She ran to the doorway to meet him. He did not expect her, so he was a bit startled when she nearly bumped into him.

"So what did Chris say? Is he okay? Is he going to turn me in? What did you have to say?" She had a million questions, but she decided to leave it at that so not to overwhelm him.

Louis smiled and handed her a burnt-orange flower he had picked for her in the gardens. "Elora, all is well. He only needed a bit of reassurance and time to put everything together. He will not do anything to harm you.–Lady Thérèse understood, I am sure."

"Yes. She always does. I think she would have been content to never know. In her at least I will still have a friend."

"Chartres too, I think. It will not be the same, but it may improve in turn."

"I hope you're right.–Now Louis, if you have ten minutes I would love to take a look at that wound on your shoulder."

"Where would you like to examine me?"

"Let's go back to my room. I have all the things I need there all ready."

So they walked together upstairs to her room. All of her supplies were already laid out on the side table. Suzanne had boiled some water earlier, put it in a covered jar, and by now it was cooled and ready to use. Sterile water would have to do, but Elora wished she had some hydrogen peroxide.

Elora instructed him to undress his upper half, which he did faithfully. She huffed, frustrated with the arm sling she wore. Stopping what she was doing she went to find the pain medicine the doctor had given her and took one drop. She knew it was a sort of morphine concoction, made from the famous poppy flower. Then she removed the sling. The arm was sore, but the morphine dulled the ache. She dropped two drops on Louis' tongue as well, explaining to him that what she was about to do would likely hurt.

She had his sit by the window and proceeded to look at his arm. It was dressed with white linen from shoulder to elbow. She was dying to see what the wound looked like underneath. She could not understand why they would bandage such an expansive area for a small gunshot wound.

"You know Louis, don't you think it's an awful coincidence we both sort of got shoulder injuries around the same time. I mean, what are the odds?"

"I had not even thought of it. Our injuries being of such a different nature."

She slowly unwrapped the dressing, with the same excitement as if she was unwrapping a present. She barely touched the area and Louis drew a breath in. Perhaps she should have given him more pain medicine.

The wound from the bullet was actually bigger than she expected. It was the deltoid of the upper arm; a chunk about the size of a deformed strawberry was missing. All around the area was purple bruising from deep-tissue damage. The wound itself was blackened. It could not be gangrene; it would not set in so soon. "Louis, what did the physician's do to this wound? It almost looks…did they cauterize the wound?"

"With a heated iron. Did they do something incorrectly, Dr. Roux?"

"No, but debriding it today would be a good idea. I'm going to scrub clean the area to get all the dead tissue off.–Maybe you should take another drop of–"

"No Elora, I will manage. I still need my wits about me today. Do what you must and I will try my best to remain stationary."

Elora expelled a deep breath, thinking about what next should be done.

She stirred the herbal paste she would be putting on the wound to promote healing. She had gone to town early this morning and spoken with the apothecary about an appropriate treatment to Louis' wound. He had selected several ingredients and even assisted her in the mashing and blending of them. Now the brownish mixture sat in a small wooden bowl.

She instructed Louis to press his arm tight against his chest, securing it with his other arm, just so she would have a steady area to work on. She cleansed the wound with the sterile water and rubbed off the dead flesh with some sterile gauze. Louis let out a moan or two in the process. She wished he would not act like such a tough guy. She would not mind if he yelled out.

She then applied a thin layer of paste before rewrapping the arm. "Well Louis, if we do this every day for a few days, it should promote healing. Then after that you can leave the area open to air to dry out.–How soon before we can go back to Versailles?"

"As soon as you feel you are ready. Philippe and I will be making a detour to Paris before returning to Versailles."

"So I will be coming with you!"

"Well, no. We are meeting with some diplomats and will likely be busy with them the entire day.–I thought you would prefer a coach back to Versailles directly, for the sake of your health."

She did not was to start a fight with Louis, but she was a little peeved he made a decision like that without even asking her. "Louis, when I'm queen will I be with you when you meet those diplomats for such meetings?"

"It depends, not necessarily."

She could not say she was not disappointed with his answer, but she did not want to cross any boundaries and start trouble within the governing powers. Changes took time and she hoped someday she and Louis could work side by side all the time.

It was probably the best way to go, even though she was a bit disappointed not only to be parted from Louis so soon, but to miss out on seeing Paris too.

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Whilst Christophe could simply run off when he could not cope with overwhelming circumstances, Thérèse was not allotted such liberties. Finally hearing truthful words from Elora had not quite been the relief either she or Christophe had hoped for. She had known for some time Elora was not born into nobility, but her best guess had been she was a physician's daughter. Elora coming here from a future time had been an unfathomable idea. Yet the unbelievable became what was now a certainty, not even Christophe could deny such a truth with Elora standing before them. She was living proof.

Thérèse had been too afraid to tell Christophe, but when Elora was thrown from the horse she had moved Elora's belongings in her chamber from the bed back into the trunk, something strange had happened. She had not even tried to explain to herself what the odd items were as she packed them away. As she took hold of one small, thin box it began to glow a bluish sort of color. She dropped it to the floor and screeched. It was blue like the depth of a hot flame yet it had not burned her. She quickly picked it back up with the skirt of her dress and put it in the trunk with the rest. Now she could speak with Elora of it and get a straightforward answer.

Mother had taken her away from Elora, not moments after Christophe had run from the room in denial. That had been perhaps the first time when her frustrations from her mother's interfering had nearly gotten the better of her. She sincerely did not want to leave the room at that time, but obediently followed her mother out. Thérèse had always been a discreet sort of girl, but she had never purposely deceived her mother. Elora had been correct, keeping this secret was already a burden and it had only been a few minutes. Mother pressed her with all sorts of questions, but she held true.

As soon as she could get away from Mother she went in search of Elora. She found her in her bedchamber assisting her maidservant in tidying up.

"Ah! Thérèse, I just finished cleaning Louis' wound. He's gone to join the other boys in a ride on horseback, hence why I didn't join them." She wiggled her left arm about in the sling. "It's nice to see you. I've been wanting to chat with you alone." The servant left moments later with the waste.

"Elora, we now have so much more to discuss with one another. I always thought you shied away from telling me things from your past because they were too painful, but now I understand why."

"I always thought that somehow you knew because you were so forgiving of all my inadequacies and blunders."

"It is amusing you say that. The day you saved the life of the Duc de Nevers, I remember wondering how you came by such an advanced practice. I do not know a physician alive who could perform such a duty. I think I thought of a future time that day and you were part of that thought."

"Thérèse, will anyone be needing you these next few hours? I mean would you want to spend your time in here with me? I have an fun idea."

"I am able to stay. What is going through your mind?"

"I want to see what you look like as a woman I would know where I come from. Let's have a dress-up and makeover party!"

"Change our appearance to look the fashion of the future?"

"Yes." Elora nodded her head vigorously.

"I have wondered, but would it be decent?"

"Of course. It's not like we're going to parade around town in such fashions."

Elora was certain to lock the bedroom door, before getting everything out. Elora explained what certain things were that she separated out on the bed. Most things needed to be triggered by a button or switch to become active, such as the small metal cylinder that produced light. Elora called it a flashlight, but it did not flash, the light was amazingly steady and of the purest white, not like a flame at all.

Something jingled as it fell to the floor off the bed. Thérèse hurried to retrieve it, fearful it might be broken. It was a ring of several keys, but very different looking keys then she was accustomed to.

Elora sighed when she took it from her. "Louis often asks what I miss most from my time. Every day that one thing seems to change. Other than indoor plumbing, I'd have to say the thing I miss most is my car."

"One of these keys secures it?"

"Yes and gives it power. A car is like a carriage that has no need of horses to move about. It is a machine, with workings like a clock, and is powered with a sort of oil. A person sits in it and uses a wheel, like the helm on a ship, to steer the car where she wants to go. The car can go really fast. In a trip that would take a horse all day would take only a couple of hours with a car. I could have used it the day I found out Louis had been shot."

Such a creation was difficult to imagine until Elora pressed a button on her communicating box, which she called a phone. It began glowing. Elora continued to press at the buttons. Finally into Thérèse's sight was shown a small image of what Elora was speaking of. She could even see Elora's figure from inside the car machine in the image. Thérèse could not help a gasp from escaping her lips.

The machine looked inconvenient for travel because of its odd shape. The exterior was painted a red color. It was quite ugly, but if it could do all Elora said it could who could care if it was not pretty like a carriage. Thérèse could not understand how the image, which could fit in the palm of her hand, had gotten into the communicating box. Could Elora somehow open the box and place the images inside to be lit up and visible to the eye? She could not speak as quickly as the questions came to mind, for there were just so many questions. Elora continued to press buttons and show her different images of her family. Though Elora's parents, brothers and grandmother did not yet exist their images were still captured in the box for her to see.

"Elora, I fear I am becoming greatly overwhelmed with these small inventions."

"Probably just about as overwhelmed I was when I found out I had no access to any these things here. It was like going to Pennsylvania to join the Amish. I can't recharge anything. I'm running out of toothpaste and deodorant. Sometimes when I first walk into a dark room I still touch the wall looking for a switch to turn on the lights. Everything is written in French, which I struggle to read and don't even dare to write. I cannot even continue my education because I'm a woman. Every Sunday when I attend mass I comprehend nothing until the priest says his homily in French because I never learned Latin."

"I can't imagine how much you have suffered, having to change your lifestyle to fit into our simple lives. I will say this Elora, since I know how keen you are to learn new things, I think you should ask the king to engage a tutor. You could surely learn Latin, at least enough to get through church service. And he could certainly help you improve your reading and writing skills."

"That's not a bad idea, Thérèse. I think I will talk to Louis about it. Thanks."

They undressed down to their barest of undergarments. She had always been quite sure she was a smaller size than Elora, but seeing her now she realized how much weight Elora must have lost these past couple of months. They were practically the same size, except in height; Elora was a bit taller.

The _bra_ that Thérèse attached was a bit too big for her breasts, but Elora gave her some handkerchiefs to stuff in. She then put on the smallest purple under-drawers she had ever seen, it covered the minimum it could below the waist. She asked Elora why her under-things were so colorful, but Elora could not answer without blushing, so never actually gave her an answer. The stocking were made of thick cotton, not silk and only covered up to the ankle. Thérèse questioned the length and Elora stated it was correct.

Elora gave her a pair of gray pants as she put on the rough blue looking ones. Thérèse followed Elora's process closely so she would do nothing incorrect.

"So Thérèse, how do pants feel? Liberating, right? You can do so much more in pants than is possible in five layers of skirts."

"A bit binding, I've never felt so aware of the space between my legs. It feels like perhaps a chastity belt would."

"Well that can't be too comfortable. Once you're in them for a little while you will not notice as much."

Then Thérèse asked about the odd cut at the hips. She was not certain if it was the fashion or the clothing was torn. Elora encouraged her to stick her hands in the cut areas. So she did and it was all fabric inside. Elora called it a pocket. It was like a purse sewn in to the clothing. Quite ingenious.

Elora let Thérèse choose which top piece she wanted, the blue or pink. Thérèse chose blue, for it was a soft blue that reminded her of the Blessed Mother.

"Okay, now I can start on your hair."

"Should we not finish dressing first?" Thérèse asked.

"This is it. I'd give you a sweater, but I don't have one with me."

"Nothing else? I feel so naked."

"Thérèse, trust me you look lovely."

Elora sat her in front of a mirror and began unpinning her hair until it was all loose down her back. She was going to use a hot iron to give her some loose curls, but was satisfied with the tussled look she currently presented.

Applying the cosmetics was terrifying. Elora kept coming at her eyes as she outlined her eyes a dark brown and colored her eyelids two blended shades of gray. Elora even insisted she paint her eyelashes a darker color and curled them with a device that looked as if it were a torture device meant to extract her eyeball from her head. Her cheeks were brushed with a pink powder and lips rubbed with an even pinker ointment. Elora did the same for herself, but went more quickly and seemed to care less about precision.

Elora pushed her before the tall mirror so she might see and what a change she saw in herself. She could hardly believe that was she in the reflection. Her appearance was so altered by the masculine, yet alluring attire she wore. The way Elora had painted her face Thérèse was certain she had never before realized how beautiful her own features were. The way the blush brought out her cheekbones and how her eyes stood out to perfection with such outlining and coloring.

Though Elora was made up in a similar fashion, she somehow looked the same to her. Thérèse could not explain it, but it seemed as if such a look was familiar on Elora.

Through all of the primping Elora went on and on talking of the future. Inventions and social changes were only the beginning of what she learned of what was to come in the next 350 years. The strange things she had seen from Elora belongings were now not so strange.

There came a knock at the door. She could not help but scream a little, "Oh dear Elora, what shall we do?"

"Shhh, it's okay. Let's see who it is before we panic." Elora went to the door, but did not unlock it. "Yes, who's there?"

"Elora," came Christophe's voice. "I have come to fetch both you and my sister for dinner."

Both of them turned their heads toward the mantle clock, was it so late? Yes it was. She hoped Elora would just send him away, with the promise of joining all in just a few minutes, but no, Elora smiled at her with a wink and unlocked the door.

In dread, Thérèse hurried behind the floor screen and quickly put on Elora's robe that was hanging on the other side.

"Thérèse stepped out," Elora stated as Christophe thumped in the room.

A startled cough interrupted Christophe's greeting midsentence. He must have taken his first look at Elora's appearance. "What?" puffed Christophe.

"What can I say to explain myself, except I was feeling in the mood to wear something familiar. Isn't it nice I don't have to hide this side of me from you now."

Thérèse peeked through the cracks in the floor screen toward Christophe, expecting a disapproving look, but he was smiling. "Now tell me if I am incorrect, Elora; the reason you wear such form-fitting, skirt-less attire is so you will be respected and taken seriously as a man is."

"At the beginning, I suppose that was the idea, but since I was born it is just a regular fashion; as regular as wearing a gown is here."

"I am certain you will not mind me saying that you are well suited for the attire. I can actually see you as a physician wearing such."

"Oh, no. Physicians wear white coats and anything but jeans for pants."

"Well, just don't spread such fashion ideas around. We would not want all the women in France tossing their gowns into the fire, trading them in for a pair of trousers. Then where would the men be if the women took over the same duties?"

Christophe had meant to be funny, but neither she nor Elora were amused.

"Chris," Elora exhaled loudly. "I know what men do, but I have to say the pants are not what's important. A person's sex should have no bearing on the accumulation of their worth or potential."

"I am just grateful Thérèse is not here," he said as he looked about the room. "She should not see you like this."

Elora's eyebrows flew up, as she crossed her arms. "Why, because it might put ideas of self-worth into her head?"

Thérèse was fond of how Elora always spoke her thoughts and articulated them so well. She was correct in her words. Though Thérèse never thought about or desired any other future then the one she was about to have with Cesaire, she now wondered perhaps she could do more with her time. If the women from three hundred years from now could do it, she certainly could.

"Elora, not all women have your strength."

What a thing to say, belittling women-kind! Thérèse was outraged.

"Maybe," began Elora, "they do not have such _strength_ because they receive no encouragement and are pressured into submission."

Christophe was not quick to reply to such a statement. Had Elora made her point or was he thinking of a way to contradict her? "That is absurd. Thérèse was always encouraged and has never been denied anything."

"Defending women's civil rights seems to be my platform in 17th century France. Tell me then, why did your education continue until you were seventeen, but Thérèse has not seen a tutor since she was twelve? Should she not have received the same education in matter and length as you?"

"And what would she do with it? Would she, a descendant of the royal line, choose a profession to play at all her life? Not even I have a profession."

"Probably not, but she would still have that option. She would surely know English now, among other things, if she had not been denied your superior education. Perhaps she would be able to manage her own funds, investing in what she sees fit. She could have double the wealth she already has. The higher the education the more it serves toward self-reliance."

"Elora," Christophe shook his head, but she would not let him speak just yet.

"These aren't ravings or merely my opinions. It is a fact; women have the same capabilities as men. I know; I've lived it. So I know if Thérèse or any other woman here wanted to, she could. You should not have such little faith in women's abilities; they may surprise you."

"Brother," began Thérèse, suddenly having no fear. She came from behind the screen. "You really should have an open mind to such possibilities."

Still beside Elora, Christophe drew back. "Thérèse, how–"

"Elora, do not be too upset with my brother. Even I have such doubts because I have lived the whole of my life knowing only one truth, but now know there is so much more. God will convert mankind's hearts to such possibilities when He see's fit. I am content with the life chosen for me."

Elora nodded. "Chris, just look at your sister. Doesn't she look beautiful!" Elora pinched him in the arm. "Doesn't she?"

"Yes, I never would have known you. Seeing you both dressed so makes me feel silly arguing such things with you when I know you are correct."

They kicked him out of the room moments later and hurried to redress themselves for dinner. Elora so quickly turned their futuristic hair styles into simple braids embellished with feathered caps. As Elora was about to wipe off her eye make-up with a dampened handkerchief, Thérèse stopped her.

"Must we, it looks so nice and I have never felt quite so beautiful."

"Thérèse," Elora took her hand. "This must be kept a secret. Your mother will be shocked with your appearance and how could we explain it to her? Maybe another night, at court. There will be no daylight and such make-up will not look so obvious."

She agreed and they both washed their faces until they looked as God had created them. Thérèse was so pleased she had spent this time with Elora. Now everything was as it should be. Nothing could break the bond of friendship they shared with one another.

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The day they set off to leave, both the royal carriage and the Chartres' best carriage were fetched. Louis insisted she take his carriage for it afforded the best comforts. At breakfast Philippe seemed a bit miffed to find out he would be stuck riding in the lesser of the two carriages, but Louis had the final say. Philippe was determined to argue the fact, Elora agreed with his saying she could take the lesser carriage, but Louis insisted Philippe not act so spoiled. The future queen, who was injured, should take precedence.

It was going to be a long day, so she drank some chamomile tea and carried peppermint leaves to sniff if she got nauseous. She loved traveling, but dreaded 17th modes of transportation.

Elora had wanted Suzanne to ride with her, so she could have a companion for the journey, but Louis would have none of that. He said it was only right for her maidservant to travel ahead so she might have everything prepared for her when she arrived later. So Suzanne left perhaps an hour before she in an open cart with all the luggage. Elora thought it was so demeaning, but Suzanne did not have a problem with it and Louis insisted that was the way it should be.

She first made her goodbyes to Louis and Philippe who were set to leave before her. Louis showered her with words of love and kisses. She hugged him tight and made him promise to be back at Versailles tomorrow. The next time he journeyed to Paris she would hear no excuse, she would go along whether she would be sitting in on the meetings or not.

Philippe bided his time before bowing and kissing her hand. "The journey may not be long, Elora, but your full strength has not yet returned. You take care of yourself. If you do not feel well enough to continue simply tell the driver to stop in the next village."

She thanked him. She was surprised with his consideration. Louis had not even said that much.

"Oh Elora, I nearly forgot," added Philippe as they all walked outside together. "I brought a few things with me that I did not need after all. I meant to give it to your girl to take with her back to Versailles, but–"

"No problem, Philippe. I'll take it." A manservant took from his carriage a leather shoulder bag and went to place it in her carriage. Elora interceded and took the bag from him. "Wow, that's heavy. What's in there, a rock collection?"

"No," he laughed. "A few books and a pistol that I had hoped to used for shooting some game here in Chartres, but found there was no time for such pursuits."

"Well I will deliver them to your chambers once I get back to Versailles."

Louis could only shake his head at his brother's audacity as they got into the carriage. Elora smiled and wished them well off.

Leaving Thérèse and Chris was not as easy as she thought it would be. She would be seeing Louis again in a day or so, but she would not be seeing the Morlaix's for at least another month. After revealing so much to them and feeling more at liberty to talk to them about anything without fear, now she was to be parted from them.

The tears were brief, but sincere at their parting. Again, promises of secrecy were exchanged. Elora could not have been more pleased that they knew the truth. She had such a good time with them on this visit. As she got into the carriage she felt a moment of sadness that she was leaving, but not a second later remembered Louis was hers forever and she felt better.

The journey began. Louis had assigned two of his guards to travel with her and she was pleased with that. One of the guards traveled in front with the driver and the other traveled by horse behind them, so she was still quite alone inside the carriage.

They were about two hours into the journey, Elora had fallen asleep, all curled up on the seat. The carriage jostled, hitting quite a large sink in the road and woke her. The carriage stopped; they must have gotten stuck. She was about to open the door to see what was going on and perhaps lend a hand. Then gunshots rang out! It was not in the distance either; it was so loud it must have been nearby. She believed it was consecutively three shots she heard.

She went into Philippe's bag and reached for his pistol. She did not know if it was loaded, but she would do her best to use it if necessary. She pushed open the door to see what was happening, but as she was pushing the door, it was pulled open with such a force she nearly fell out. Two men with dirty faces and worn clothes were there. One was holding a gun, pointed straight at her!

If she screamed she did not know. She was sure at that moment she was going to die. She thought not of memories, as many say they do with near-death experiences, but thought of all the things she would never get a chance to do if she died today.

The men seemed startled to see her and to confirm her suspicion one of them said, "It's a woman. They pulled a switch on us."

The man lowered his gun a bit when he looked away toward the other man. They obviously had not seen the pistol she held behind her back. She raised the gun, pointing it toward the man closer to her and squeezed the trigger. She flew the floor of the carriage from the kickback of the pistol. Her target had been so close, but as she shot the pistol it flied up towards the sky, which is exactly the direction it fired in.

"Don't just stand there," shouted the other man. "Grab hold of her."

So he did, pulling at her injured arm. She screamed and dropped the pistol. She proceeded to use her good arm to punch him in the head. As soon as her feet hit the ground the man holding the gun swung the handle of the gun into her head. Her sight went from being near blinded by the bright sun to complete darkness.

**Dear Readers, **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter of The Celestial City. I especially loved it! Sorry it always takes me so long to post a new chapter. It's just that I am meticulous with my editing/revising process and just was everything to be perfect for you. **

**I really appreciate feedback so please review and let me know what you think!**

**L.B. Tempia**


	29. Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

She woke in a carriage to find herself bound and gagged. This was not Louis' carriage; this was an old, moldy smelling wooden carriage. The rigid seat did not even have cushions. She pulled at the ropes binding her hands and feet, but they would not budge an inch. Her left shoulder was killing her, with her arm being tied behind her back and all. The cloth gag stuffed inside her mouth and practically shoved down her throat tasted like dirt and sweat.

The two men on the opposite side of the carriage leered at her. They were grimy and ragged, fitting the unsettling stereotype of a hardened criminal. She was definitely being kidnapped. She tried to scream but the stupid gag muffled her.

"Ah, so the princess is finally awake," said the older, dirtier of the two. His right eyelid drooped lower than the left and his nose was way too big for his little round head. He looked more like an assistant to a mad scientist than anything. His stare gave her the shivers.

They would never get away with kidnapping her. She figured they must be insane or idiots. It was not as if there was no one who would miss her. Yet they had overtaken Louis' guards. She was sure Louis had by now sent out a search party to recover her.

The younger man turned to the other with a concerned face. "Hey Bailey, you didn't say we'd be kidnapin' royalty. Is she really? This could mean our heads."

The young one might have been handsome if he smelt better and had more than half of his teeth. And there were bugs visibly crawling around in his tangled brown hair! Her head became itchy at the sight of it and she could not scratch it. Between her motion sickness and those scuttling parasites she felt terribly sick.

"Shut your face, Aubrey! She's not really royalty, she's just the king's bride.–Isn't that right, girl?–She's a pretty thing isn't she though? The king's got good taste."

Bailey reached over and brushed her cheek. She turned away in revulsion. She was afraid to even wonder what they had in store for her. They were ogling her and she hated it. Then she noticed her gown had ridden up to her knees, giving them a nice view. With her bound hands she did the best she could to pull the gown back down to her ankles.

"Now, princess," warned Bailey. "There's no point in trying to yell for help the only one's here to hear you is us. The coachman is a deaf mute so he isn't gonna be any help to you."

She would not allow them the pleasure of seeing her fearful. So she kept on her superior-looking, brave face. For the duration of the journey she listened very carefully to what the men were saying. They were very talkative kidnappers, ergo stupid ones at that. They were taking her to Aubrey's home. He had a wife waiting for him and supposedly he was going to give to her the fine gown Elora now wore. If that woman had her gown what would she be left wearing?

She had to wonder about what had happened. They did seem confused to see her when they pulled open the door. Since she was in Louis' carriage she was guessing they had planned to capture or kill Louis and Philippe. She was glad, in a way, they found her instead. She would rather be kidnapped than have Louis and Philippe dead.

She could not fathom who was responsible for doing this because these cretins surely were not intelligent enough to plan out something this effective. Somebody must have paid them off for such an attack. Could it be someone she knew? Or it could be some anarchist wanting to make a statement. It could be a group of men, like the ones who murdered Julius Caesar. It was possible these cretins sitting across from her were in on that attempted assassination at Versailles last week.

They traveled for many hours, but Elora could not close her eyes, no matter sleep. When they finally got to their destination it was well past sundown. She was discretely carried over Aubrey's shoulder into a small house and cruelly dropped on the planked floor. Yes it hurt terribly, perhaps even injuring her shoulder again.

She saw a young woman at the fireplace tending to the hearth. When Elora's body thumped against the hard floor the woman turned and noticed their presence. After quickly assessing the scene she walked up to Aubrey and slapped his face, hard.

"Where were you this whole time? Five weeks you have not been home, leaving me to fend alone with a baby comin'! I had to sell some of Father's possessions to pay the rack-rent and the church taxes. Are you drunk again? Who is this poor girl and why is she tied up on my floor! What is Bailey doing here? I thought you told me you weren't gonna consort with him no more," the woman said angrily, as she untied Elora's bonds.

Aubrey looked at his wife, almost afraid to speak. "Jolie, I'm sober, not a drop of liquor on me. Me dear wife, I was just out making money. This girl's me bonus, she is the king's betrothed. We will make good money off her. Just for today we got five hundred francs and there's gonna be a lot more money comin' now that we have her and Bailey's me partner."

Elora felt so vulnerable on the floor, not to mention fearing what rodent might crawl by at any moment, judging by the condition of the house. It really looked as if it should be condemned. The gray wood walls and floor were falling apart. The two windows had no glass, instead they were covered with some sort of thin animal skins and closed off with shudders on hinges.

With her limbs still bound, her attempt to stand herself up was a struggle. She rolled and wiggled her way from sitting on her backside to kneeling. She rocked back and forth on her knees a couple of times, managing to balance her weight onto her toes then onto her feet. Now able to stand upright, she found that all three had stopped their conversation to stare at her.

"How'd she manage that?" asked Aubrey.

If she did not have a gag still stuffed in her mouth she would have said, "I have good dexterity is all".

"Unnatural is what it is!" added Bailey.

It seemed like just then Bailey spotted the ruby necklace she wore. He stalked towards her, with a menacing smile and a greedy gleam in his eyes. In one quick move he ripped the necklace off her neck. Her scream was quite muffled, but tears still came to her eyes. The yank practically gave her whiplash and the chain definitely scratched the back of her neck. At least he had not seen her engagement ring and he would never get it as long as she was still alive.

Jolie looked viciously upon her husband. "You're mad! How did you get mixed up in such an insane scheme? You will hang for this or perhaps worse.–My lady, I am so sorry for my husband's doings. Let me help you up, if you will permit me, my lady. Come with me and you can get some rest."

After Jolie freed her of those blistering ropes, Elora felt her shoulder and moved her arm around a bit. It was not dislocated again, but it was as sore as if it had been. Indeed the back of her neck was bleeding a little, but not so much it needed dressing. Elora untied the gag and pulled the cloth out of her mouth, never more relieved to have the power of speech back in her life.

Jolie helped her to the other room and locked the door behind them. Elora quickly assessed the room. It was maybe eight feet squared. There was no door to the outside, fireplace, or even a single window. It was a box, no, more like a panic room with only one way out and bad guys on the other side. The bed was up against the wall and seemed only a little bigger than a twin. The way Jolie spoke it sounded as if she would be sharing it with her too.

"Now my dear girl, who exactly are you and what did my husband do to you?" Jolie asked kindly, but the word _husband_ came out in a despised tone.

She was so relieved the woman was on her side. Elora explained who she was and what had happened today. "I'm sure they were intending to kill the king and prince," she added.

"Your Highness, I am so awfully sorry with what has happened." Jolie curtsied, going down on her knees, which must have been hard because she was so far long. Elora quickly went down to the ground and lifted her up.

"I am not queen yet."

Jolie smiled. "You are the nearest to a queen we've had in a great while. With red silk this fine," she touched Elora's sleeve, "I should have known you to be royalty."

"Can you help me escape? I promise you will be greatly rewarded by the king. Please help me I'm so afraid those men are going to kill me."

Jolie sat down on the bed and rubbed her stomach. "They shall do nothing of the kind. I don't know much I can do about getting you out. I am only a woman.–Sleep now and we will sort this once you are rested up."

Elora slept perhaps a couple of hours on and off. She was by no means rejuvenated. The bed had been lumpy and not soft at all, more crunchy than anything. The thin mattress, if that is what one would call what she slept on, seemed stuffed with straw. Even the pillow felt as if it were filled with packing material. Every time she moved her weight in the bed she heard a distinct crumpling under her.

Jolie was not a bothersome bedmate, though there was no space between them on the small bed. The men in the next room were noisy halfway through the night and the other half of the night snored so loudly they might as well have been right next to her in bed. The room was freezing, having no fireplace, only a hot brick Jolie had placed under the mattress. That was a fire hazard waiting to happen.

Jolie insisted it would be best if she remained in that small, dimly lit room versus going out into the main room with the men present. Though Elora was not thrilled with the idea, she agreed. The less she saw of her kidnappers the better.

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Louis and Philippe were arriving at Versailles in the early afternoon. Paris had been a frustrating affair. No one could agree to anything and so no decision was made about Spain's defiance once again with their treaty. Spain was a thorn in his side and knew someday there would be no room left for arguing with diplomats. There would be war and lives lost. Hopefully this would not happen for some time. If only Elora was better versed in her French history he would know such things as Spain's plans. Sometimes he wondered whether she did indeed know more than she would ever admit to.

She had, by slip of the tongue, told him of his family's eventual downfall, but would let him know of nothing more since. That conversation so long ago in his gardens had become an unclear memory. For something so important he could not understand why he could not remember her sentences word for word. Indeed he could not remember a name or time such destruction would happen to France. Perhaps some other-worldly force was behind such unforeseen forgetfulness.

He could not wait to see Elora and take his afternoon meal with her. He so wanted her to clean and redress his wound. He far preferred her gentle touch to the haughty and sometimes nervous physicians he retained. He believed her remedy was more effective in any case; he could sense the ointment she rubbed in the wound healing it well and the soreness was beginning to dull.

When they passed through Versailles' golden gates he could see Colbert in the distance pacing quickly in the courtyard, waiting for the carriage's arrival. It was raining heavily and quite dreary, but Colbert wore no hat on his head, nothing to protect him from the elements. And where were the courtiers who should be waiting to welcome his return? Something was amiss.

As the horses came to a halt Louis stepped from the carriage. Colbert's approach was rushed as he proceeded to kneel directly at Louis' feet. Philippe had not even had a moment to exit the carriage.

From Colbert's tight-jawed expression Louis felt a chill coarse through his body. He had enough surprises this week to last him a lifetime. "Be quick about it," ordered Louis.

"Your Majesty, I have just been informed only minutes ago that the Comtesse de Valréas has gone missing. Her carriage was attacked before reaching Rambouillet yesterday. Three were killed and found with the carriage off the main road. The comtesse was not to be found. I believe this was a premeditated attack and she has been abducted."

"Abducted!" cried Philippe, finally stepping out of the carriage.

Louis grabbed Colbert by the shoulders. "What madness is this? It is impossible! She cannot have been stolen. I had two of my best guards with her. She must have escaped the bandits!"

"If," Colbert spoke simply and slowly. "If she was taken by force, my king, then this is possible. They knew just where to position themselves; a secluded area, far from town and the eyes of witnesses. Her absence is a fine indication, we might still get her back."

"Might? Might! You are mistaken. You must be mistaken! Perhaps she escaped to the nearest village. Has the area been swept for her presence?"

"The search has just begun. I only received news of this at half past eleven. We could not track the attackers; the rain has already washed everything away."

"We must find her, Colbert, and it must be soon."

He cursed himself. He should have protected her better. He had been a fool. She was the most precious thing in the world to him yet he could not spare more than two men to guard her. He had two men guarding the royal china cabinet and he did not care a whit for those plates. Could he not have taken at least twice the consideration for the woman he loved? What a fool he was!

He should have taken her with him to Paris. She had wanted to go with him so desperately; he saw it in her eyes. Yet she yielded to him when he said it would be better she go straight home to Versailles for her health. It even would have been better if he had insisted she remain in Chartres another day. Anything but send her on to Versailles, alone, unable to protect herself.

What kind of man had taken his betrothed? She was so innocent to the outside world because of him. He did nothing to prepare her; now she was out there against her will and powerless.

Louis very quickly became exceedingly overwhelmed. He could hardly breathe, no matter think and the rain had already soaked through all his clothes. He sent out every man who could be spared under his service. He would have them search every dwelling in France if necessary.

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A couple of days passed, with Elora consistently plagued with the unsettling anxiety that at any moment Bailey and Aubrey would crash through the door and kill her. She could only keep track of the time by Jolie's precise entrance into the bedroom with meals and at bedtime. Never again was a word spoken between them of her release or what would happen to her. Jolie did help her sew her engagement ring into her chemise, so whatever happened no one would take it. Bailey had already sold off the necklace he stole from her.

There were only two meals of the day and they were small portions of pottage, an oatmeal like substance with vegetables added in, mostly onions; making it into a sort of stew. Meat of even the poorest quality could not be afforded, Jolie told her. There was freshly baked bread, which was what Elora filled up on throughout the day. Such meager meals were torture, after having fancy foods at Versailles for so long. Though she was hungry, swallowing every spoonful of that pottage was a struggle.

On the third morning Elora woke, alone in the bedroom. She heard the three of them arguing in the other room. She wrapped a blanket about her shoulders and hurried to the door to listen.

"Aubrey, you cannot keep her here. The king's guards are everywhere, scattering the countryside, looking for that girl. If you get caught and chances are great that you will, the king will surely have you put to death! Is the reward so great you would die for it, leaving me and the baby?"

"Jolie, you've said this all before. I've been workin' on it all this time and I've settled she will be gone today."

"What do you mean?" Jolie questioned. "What do you mean to do with her?"

"For a price I'll hand her over to the infidel who's been payin' us. It will be more money in it for us, I know," Aubrey insisted.

"You did not even perform the task you were paid in part to complete, thank heavens. Why should you expect more from him? How you know he even wants her? Captives were not in the agreement, I'm certain."

"Not so much, but that lass is gonna be the queen. She's practically part of the royal family. The king's property is valuable and I'm sure the infidel will find something to do with her."

"Father once told me infidels have demons within them. Are you a true Christian or simply a hypocrite? Do you not have any morals man?" she roared.

Elora was becoming more and more frightened the more she heard. The idea of being here for any length of time was terrifying and being pawned off to yet another conspirator was enough to make her break into tears. She heard the word _infidel_, another archaic word. She was not sure if it meant he was godless or just not Christian, either way was not a good sign. He was corrupt, whatever his creed or religion, so he was dangerous.

"She'll fair all right, Madame," Bailey barked. "She won't be our problem anymore, so who cares."

"I care!"

"Look at it this way," added Aubrey, trying to comfort his wife. "She is an over-bred princess that's likely barren. So we are doing France a favor. In time the king will marry another and have a brood of prince's for France and no one will remember or care about the Comtesse de Valréas. Now be a good wife and fetch the princess."

Elora backed away from the door, frozen with fear. She was trembling, unable to differentiate whether it was from the coldness of the morning or the intense terror that consumed her thoughts. Should she try to escape now? This may be her only chance. In the home of this _infidel_ she may never have the chance. Elora heard a knock at the bedroom door, before she even had time to gather her thoughts and form a plan. She could not believe this was happening to her.

Jolie entered the room and took her hand. "My lady, I cannot stop them. You must go with them. You must be strong and do not give up hope. I will keep you in my prayers."

She was again bound and gagged. At least now her arm was feeling better and the ropes did not feel as tight. She wished Louis would hurry up and find a way to rescue her. Didn't these two idiots leave tracks for Louis to follow? Could not his hounds smell out where they had gone?

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After a full day's ride in a windowless carriage they arrived at the infidel's home. She had no way of knowing where she was or even what direction they had come. Bailey exited the carriage, leaving her alone to be watched by Aubrey. Time passed slowly. Aubrey had nothing to say to her and barely looked in her direction. She wondered if he was beginning to have a guilty conscience about kidnapping her.

Returning without a word, Bailey nodded to Aubrey and she was pushed out of the carriage toward an immense villa. She did not think an infidel in France would have such upper-class accommodations. They were not as secretive about transferring her from the coach to the house as they had been before. From this she could only deduce that they had stopped in _Hicksville_, France. The villa seemed completely surrounded by nature; far off any main road and there was not another residence in sight. The sun had begun setting behind the trees, leaving behind a vivid orange and pink sky. Not a sound but the gusting wind and chirping birds could she hear; no carriages or wagons or men at work.

She was forced to frogmarch with a rusted dagger held to her back as they entered the house. Sometime while being kidnapped she lost her shoes and had none since. So now she treaded, practically barefoot, in torn silk stockings; the stone gravel stabbing into her feet with every step.

The white stone walls surrounding the property were at least twelve feet high. The infidel must have been filthy rich because the chateau was quite large. From her angle of vision the house appeared to be a two-story, L-shaped chateau. The exterior was covered in some sort of ivy, so all that was really visible were the arch-windows and gray roof. It seemed an appealing place considering it would be her prison, her hell.

The interior of the villa completely contradicted the exterior Baroque architecture. From the décor Elora could barely believe she was still in France. She felt like she just stepped into one of the tales from _The Arabian Nights_.

Once passing through an arcaded entrance they stood in a great, open room, totally devoid of furnishings. The golden mosaic ceiling in the great hall was as great as the Sistine Chapel, but in Persian or Indian influence. The arabesque carved stucco décor was truly breathtaking. The flared staircase stood at the far end of the hall. The second level hallways were open and going around both the left and right sides of the grand hall.

She was certain she was going to see her new captor as soon as she walked in, but there only stood an old, black, servant woman with serious eyes. This was the first time she had seen someone of African descent in this time. She wore a bright red button-down shirt and matching genie-like pants. She even had the cute curled-toed shoes.

Aubrey untied the ropes that bound her hands, as the servant woman, who must have been the housekeeper, looked her up and down, seeming unimpressed, but mostly annoyed. She did not look nearly as friendly as Jolie. Her deep voice was in French, but with a very strong accent from who knew where. She told the men to join her master in the second room on the left and proceeded to motion for Elora to follow her. The idea of following a strange woman compliantly through a strange house was not her first choice. She had hoped to run out the way she came in, but telling by her peripheral vision Bailey was completely blocking the way. Elora untied and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

Her first instinct was to scream, but it probably would not do any good. She was almost certain there was not anyone around to hear her. All it would probably do would be to annoy her captors and did she did not really want to be doing that.

Beginning to follow the woman, she looked back toward the entranceway one more time, but the idiots were still blocking her way. Perhaps one of them she could barrel through, but not them both. She looked at Bailey and Aubrey for what she hoped was the last time. She was not sure if she should be glad even the slightest at that moment, for her fate might prove worse in the hands of a richer man with more resources.

She obediently followed the housekeeper, really having no other choice. She did her best to learn the route and observe for any means of escape. Though nothing helpful jumped out at her she would hope that maybe an opening would appear for her soon, perhaps being able to slip out a window or door.

As they walked down the winding halls on the first level, she planned what to say to the infidel if and when she got a chance at him. She imagined him a callous man with a turban, gray beard, and evil eyes. She hoped he would be civil and take pity upon the situation she found herself in. More likely he would be unkind and try to take advantage of her helpless situation.

"Where are you taking me? Do you know what is going to happen to me now?" Elora questioned the housekeeper, but only silence ensued.

The woman did not even glance back, as if she did not hear her or did not care to. So Elora kept on swiftly walking after her. The woman stopped suddenly at what appeared to be a dead end and turned to her. Elora could not help a startled flinch. Her glare was so foreboding. Did the woman have not other expression, but a scowl?

"You will call me Madame Sakeena. You will now be bathed and dressed in fresh attire."

"Wait!" Elora grabbed the woman's arm loosely. "What do you mean? I'm a captive, your prisoner, right?"

"Of the master, I suppose."

"Then why care to clean me up?"

"Have a filthy thing like you in this house? I think not."

"Ah." Elora nodded, but still did not fully understand.

"Our ways are not your ways, so prepare yourself. "

Elora had hardly noticed Madame's monotone warning because she was so grateful to hear she would be taking a bath. She had not had one for several days and believed she was starting to smell that way too. The wall moved like a sliding door at Madame Sakeena's slightest touch. They passed around a wooden screened room separator that was completely hand-carved into detailed geometric designs of lattice-work and entered into a large bathing room. It looked like one big mosaic, from ceiling to floor were glazed tiles in foreign designs and images of a tropical oasis.

The room was filled with chattering, _naked_ girls. At first glance they seemed naked, but they were actually wearing completely transparent, gauze robes. Though in vivid, colorful shades, the robes concealed nothing.

"No way! Not a chance!" She drew to a halt immediately and turned to get the heck out of there. Unfortunately there was a seven-foot tall man directly behind her blocking her way to exit. If the word, "whoa" did not burst from her mouth, she was sure thinking it. He looked like he should either be a bouncer or a football player.

There was an instant uproar from the girls as they noticed her presence. A group of them, maybe eight, crowded around her. She put her hand over her eyes and looked toward the floor, too embarrassed to look at the nude girls. Normally she was not so shy, but this was no girl's locker-room uniform change. They were speaking a foreign language, not even close to French or English. They touched and pulled at her gown. She had to admit she looked a little disheveled, but not so much that she expected this sort of attention.

Madame Sakeena clapped her hands, yelled something in a foreign tongue, and all the girls scattered. She was slightly apologetic and explained those girls were not used to seeing outsiders, especially those with such fair features and European attire.

In entering this Middle-Eastern house it was like going on one of those foreign country rides at a theme park. Between the décor, the attire, and now this huge bathing room with tons of girls she now began to understand her situation. Hesitating to ask, but desperate to confirm her suspicions Elora asked Madame Sakeena if this was a harem.

She responded, "But of course." She called it a seraglio. All those girls who were crowded around her were the master's concubines.

There were many servants in the room, all of African decent. The women wore gauze veils, buttoned shirts, and harem pants. There were even three servant men in the room. What they were doing in a ladies bathing room baffled her. The men wore long tunics and headdresses.

"The master's wives will receive you on another day of their choosing."

Did she have to say it? "Wives! You mean more than one?"

"Yes. The Lady Muna and the Lady Rasha. They come into that baths at a different time."

"Lord, two wives! I'm going to have a lot of things to say to this master of yours."

"He is now your master too."

"I don't think so!" She hissed and crossed her arms. "No human being will ever own me!"

"We will not argue this now," Sakeena finished, waving her hand in one swift motion.

Two servant women proceeded to scrub her hair in a basin with some odorous soap. They said it was to rid her head of any bugs she might have obtained. She was nearly insulted, but remembered the conditions she had been living in the past few days and understood their reasoning. After rinsing, they cleansed her hair with a cherry-scented oil. She took the towel they offered and scrubbed her head until it was barely damp.

When Madame Sakeena began undressing her, Elora pushed her away nearly knocking the woman off her feet and into the pool.

"Madame! I do not get naked or bathe in pubic!"

"You will do as I say, girl," Madame Sakeena asserted. Elora's heart was pounding like a drum from her humiliation and frustration, as the woman unlaced her gown and slid it off her. For goodness sake, there were men present. "I heard Christian's never disrobe to bathe, but you now will."

"Actually," Elora interrupted. "I do bathe in the nude, Madame, but never with another soul in the same room…and that is how it shall remain."

Before Madame could pull off her chemise Elora swiftly jumped into the bath, performing a sort of cannonball effect, splashing all around, including Madame Sakeena. Elora could not help but laugh as the water dripped off the dampened woman. Madame Sakeena knelt down beside the bath to grab hold of her, but Elora speedily swam to the opposite end of the pool using a steady breaststroke. No way were they getting that chemise off her. The bathing pool appeared to be at least five feet deep, which was comfortable to swim around in.

"Madame, don't you know who I am!" Elora screamed. She never thought she would have to say such a thing and pull the nobility card. Elora gave her name and title to impress and hopefully intimidate Madame Sakeena. She seemed the only one with power here, other than the _master_. After giving her name, she stressed the words _betrothed to the King of France _and_ practically queen_.

She could tell Madame Sakeena had been affected by her introduction, but not quite in the way she had hoped. Elora had expected her to be a little intimidated or in awe, but instead she seemed confused and surprised.

Elora took this moment that Madame was off her guard to ask about the master of the house. Lord Mendak was his name and that was all she would divulge about him. Elora suspected that was not even his real name.

"And when will I be meeting this Lord Mendak?"

"You shall not, for the time being. He is a man heavily occupied and you are not his chief concern. It may take you a while to fully adjust to your new life here. Once you understand our lifestyle here you may be allowed in his presence. I must first be certain of your obedience and appropriate conduct. From the brazen, defiant behavior you graced us with today, you would insult him immensely. I cannot have that. You will come to revere and honor him, then he may receive you."

Elora was sure to hide her relief. Sakeena meant to put her down, but her condescension had the reverse effect. At least she would not have to worry about having to stand Lord Mendak's company any time soon. She would hopefully be rescued or have successfully escaped before ever being forced to see his wrinkled face. In addition, it meant they intended her to have a long stay here.

He was obviously a rich man by the looks of his house and the number of servants. She knew by now that the only rich people in the seventeenth century were nobles, though sometimes even they were short of funds. Some merchants were wealthy, but not like this. He had to have some great title, which meant Louis must know him; for Louis knew everyone of title and consequence.

No doubt, this man was from a barbaric, middle-eastern country. She wished she had studied more about the geography of countries in this time. Was he actually the one behind all of this? She had never expected to come in contact with a polygamist in her entire life. After all she had achieved adjusting herself to this time, it was still so strange to her; there was so much she did not know.

Then Sakeena called her out of the bath. She stepped out of the pool and instantly a servant wrapped a towel around her. Where had her dress gone to? It was again made clear to her she was not to wear French attire anymore. Elora was not about to argue, only insisted the dress be returned to her, though it would not be worn.

She followed the woman into an adjoining room. As she walked past servant and concubine alike she held tightly to the towel wrapped about her. Sakeena fetched some clothes her size from a chest of draws. A servant woman was about to assist her in drying off, but Elora stopped her.

"Madame Sakeena, may I please be given a moment of privacy to dress myself."

With reluctance the woman agreed and left her alone in the room. Elora changed as quickly as she could, just in case Madame did not prove true to her word and walked in. She stepped into royal blue silk pantaloons with a layer of silver gauze over it making a loose skirt. The waist and ankle bands of the pantaloons were in wide strips of cloth of silver, embroidered with blue thread. The waist was just low enough to compliment her curvy torso. The long sleeved shirt, she heard Madame call a _kameez_, was blue silk embroidered with seed pearls. The narrow v-neckline was deep, but still modest. Even the length of the shirt was pleasant, reaching mid-thigh. She was even given adorable matching slippers with curled toes.

She went to the carved doorway and announced she was dressed. She liked her outfit. It was comfortable and more like the clothes she used to wear back in the 21st century. Next her hair was combed by a servant and made into one loose braid. Running through the braid was a silver ribbon lined with seed pearls. The make-up they added to her face made her look like a gaudy Egyptian.

Sakeena led her up the main hallway of the women's quarters, up the wide staircase, then right to her room. Her bedroom was large with all the amenities of Versailles Chateau. The Arabian wood tables, chairs, desk and chaise were all inlayed with mother-of-pearl and rare woods. Her bed was a day bed and considerably smaller than what she was used to. Instead of a curtained-canopy a long piece of sheer, silvery-red gauze suspended from the ceiling like a chandelier over the bed to envelop the contents there of. There were shaded oil lamps on the walls, giving source to a substantial amount of light. In the fireplace the pile of logs were blazing.

Under Lord Mendak's orders Sakeena was to lock her up in this room. She was to be allowed out daily only to go to the baths in the seraglio. "I will send in Hassan to serve you. He is the best I have who speaks the French language."

"_He_? No, I don't want a man servant!" Elora was horrified. What kind of people were they? First bathing in a pool full of naked, harem girls, now was she to have a male maid?

"Hassan is not a man. He is a eunuch. All of the master's concubines are served by eunuchs. You should be honored by his consideration."

"Thank you, but I must refuse. No male will ever serve me in such a capacity. If I cannot have a woman I prefer to serve myself."

"The master will be displeased with such an attitude. Hassan is the only one I can send you, whether you care to have him or not."

"Madame," Elora was about to argue, but realized she was in no position to irritate the woman further. She huffed, flopping down on the bed. "Send him then."

She was left alone in her bedroom with nothing to do. Her first action was to search the room for the best means of escape. The door would be locked, but would they know well enough to lock the window. True she was on the second floor, however to get away from this Turkish horror she would be willing to make a jump for it.

She assessed at the window to find it did not open. It was made up of five narrow vertical panes. Even if she broke the glass without being heard, she would not be able to squeeze through. What she saw below was not encouraging, a stone-laid courtyard. If she leapt down to that she would break her legs for certain. There were no nearby trees or bushes to jump into. Even the side of the house had no ledge to walk across or drainpipe to climb down.

Elora concluded, for now at least, escape from her room was impossible. Prisoner in a harem, now she wished she were back in that parasite infested hovel with the idiots. She knelt by the window, looking up to the overcast sky and prayed. She reminded herself that everything that happened was for a reason and sometimes only God was to know what such a reason was. She could not help but turn again to the idea that perhaps this was God trying to keep she and Louis apart. Only days ago she had been so certain God wanted her with Louis, but now she was not so certain. Every time they were decided to be with each other something or someone always came between them. Why could God not just send her home if this were so? She did not know what to think. She was more alone now than ever before in her life. No friend around for council, now barely a soul she could even communicate with.

She was certain her life was in great danger. Her kidnapper had plans for her she did not know. What was ahead? Death, probably not in the near future, but torture, rape, starvation, life imprisonment could be approaching. She could only pray for courage and the hope that things would get better. She wanted to live and she especially wanted to see Louis' face again.

She had been weeping profusely for some time now. She went to the washbasin and rinsed her face clean. All of the make-up they had so carefully applied was now gone. Exhaustion was starting to hit her, overpowering her ravenous stomach. She did not even know exactly what time of day it was. She lied on the pink and gold upholstered chaise, just intending to rest her eyes.

She must have dozed off, for she woke when she heard the door opening. Perhaps it was someone with food, but she did not smell any food. The steps were heavy ones, definitely steps of a man. Hassan, the manservant, was going to prove a problem. How much would he be expecting to assist her with? She could not imagine sharing such intimacies with him as she did with Suzanne.

She kept wishing she were back in Versailles or even in her home in the future, anywhere but there. Perhaps if he thought she were asleep he would not bother her and go away. She silently prayed he would turn and walk out of the room in the approaching seconds, but he did not. The seconds turned into minutes. It seemed he might just stand there at attention until she woke, waiting for her orders.

She could hear his soft breathing; he was standing right beside the chaise where she still laid. He said ever so softly, "Oh Allah."

Still she did not open her eyes, but she could not stop her lips from correcting him. "No, Elora Roux."

She shot open her eyes to look upon a handsome, young man. He stared at her as if she were a surprise to him, not her presence, but more so her looks. It was almost as if it were a sparkle of recognition, but they certainly had never met. Before today she had not seen one person of different race in France, so there was no way they could know one another.

He was plainly clothed in a white tunic and baggy white pants, as she would expect of a servant. He was very handsome, with his dark, olive skin and his straight, black hair. Being the colour of gray with the slightest hint of amethyst, his eyes were mesmerizing. Elora had never before seen eyes such as his, at least not without colored contacts. Those jeweled eyes almost made her weak in the knees.

She regained her wits and reminded herself that she did not yet know who exactly this guy was. When going from lying down to standing up in one quick move, her head spun a bit.

"You must be Hassan?"

He tapped his finger against his lip and nodded the affirmative.

"Madame Sakeena informed me you would be coming. What exactly are your orders, what I mean to ask is, to what capacity will you be with me? Will you be like a chamber maid or just my jail-keeper?"

"A little of both perhaps." His voice was deep and strong, but mostly kind.

"Ah, well I will tell you now, I know you are a eunuch and are used to being around women, but there are certain things which I demand complete privacy for. I bathe alone, use the chamber-pot alone, and dress behind screens. I do not like to be babied. I want to preserve whatever independence I have left."

Being a faithful servant he replied not of his own view, "I fear this will displease the master."

"You know," she crossed her arms, "I really don't care about that sordid, old polygamist's feelings."

She saw a flash of defiance cross his face, but a moment later it was gone. Perhaps she had gone too far. Instead of speaking to defend his master he asked, "I am surprised to see you wearing such attire. I quite expected a trembling French woman in yards of fluffed cloth."

"My gown was taken from me; supposedly to be returned when clean. I am quite content with these clothes though. They are very comfortable and remind me of…" She knew to finish that sentence would be trouble.

"Of what?"

"Well, let's just say there was a time when I used to wear clothes similar to this."

"Indeed?"

"Yes."

She shivered, wishing she had a sweater or something. Night had fallen some time ago and any warmth there was in the day had disappeared with the sun. She looked at the fireplace; it needed stoking. She moved to complete such a task, but there was no fire iron. "Hassan, how am I supposed to stoke the fire?"

"The master had such things removed for your safety."

"You mean for his safety." She was reminded of her first day in this time. She had been ready to run Louis through with the fire iron she was so scared. "Hassan, will you –"

He was already walking out of the room to go fetch one before she could finish asking. She sat close by the fireplace to keep warm until Hassan returned carrying three logs and what was that she saw under his arm, a fire iron. She took a log from his arms giving him an easier time in piling the others into the fireplace. She went to hand him the log, but with the weight on her left arm, suddenly she had a tearing pain at the back of her shoulder and nearly dropped the log. He caught it from her, as if he was expecting such a fumble.

She commended his quick reflexes and apologized, explaining her recent injury and how being kidnapped and bound for so long had not helped.

"If you do not require my service I will excuse myself."

A moment later Hassan was gone and she was sorry he did not remain a little longer. Considering French was a second language to him he was quite a conversationalist. His presence was not wholly unpleasant. She felt like he would be tolerable enough company for her in this hell. She hoped he might return tomorrow.

Only minutes after Hassan left another servant, a middle-aged woman, entered with a metal tray of food. She took a moment to thank God for the food. She had totally forgotten to ask Hassan about it, but was relieved someone thought about feeding her. She clearly did not speak French and barely made eye contact with her. Elora was glad for the food because she had not had a meal since morning and what she had eaten at Jolie's house the past few days was not substantial.

Tonight she had on her tray an unknown variety of long-grain rice with a strange, but tasty spice. It was topped with chunks of tender lamb. On the side was a pile of flatbread, more than she could eat in a whole day. No silverware was given, so she ate most ungracefully with her hands and attempting to use the bread as a utensil.

Later Hassan returned with more wood to hopefully last her the night. She was so grateful to see him again and was quick to tell him she wanted him to continue coming to help her. After preparing the fire for her, he seemed anxious to leave, but stopped when he saw her getting ready to go to bed.

"Madame Sakeena did not arrange sleeping attire for you?"

Elora shook her head. She had assumed this outfit was the only thing she would be given to wear for a while.

"All right then," he huffed.

Hassan left the room and returned after only a few minutes. He carried in his arms a small pile of clothing. Elora thanked him as he passed her a black shirt and pants. She told him goodnight, but still he remained in the room. She stared at him with raised brow, motioning for him to make his way to the door.

Only then he spoke. "I also have with me some balm for your injury." In his hand she suddenly saw a small glass jar.

That was so thoughtful of him. She never imagined such a consideration from the servant of her captor. "This is a nice surprise. The ache is awful, so balm sounds perfect right now.–Umm…but I don't think I can reach that far back at my shoulder. Do you think you can help me a bit?"

"I expected as much."

He had already opened the jar, so she hurried behind the floor screen to change for bed. Before coming from behind the screen, Elora pressed her pajama top to her front, covering her chest fully. She would put it on afterwards.

As she walked over to Hassan, his stare was strange, not quite unsettling to her, but curious. She turned her back to him and he started rubbing the balm all around her posterior shoulder.

"Why do you blush?" he asked her.

She could not be more embarrassed at that moment. She hated it when color rose to her cheeks without her consent, especially when others took notice of it. She looked over her shoulder at him for a moment, but his penetrating eyes were too much for her, she had to look away. "It is just, I am not used to…I know you are a eunuch, but it is still weird having a guy in here."

He let out a chuckle. "I wish I could somehow put you at ease."

"How long have you been this way, a eunuch I mean?"

"Boys are chosen at a young age, between three and five years old."

"And because of this you do not have any desires of the flesh? You must feel so at peace."

"Most nights."

"I am sorry such a thing was done to you against your will when you were so young, with no one to protect you."

"Such a thing was not a consequence of your actions. I do not need your pity."

She did not know how to answer that, so she dropped the subject. She had Hassan face the wall whilst she put her shirt on. "You know Madame Sakeena says I am to go to the seraglio baths in the morning."

"Yes. It is what women of our culture do."

Elora now touched his arm and slowly began walking with him to the door. "I couldn't be more thrilled to be cleaning up in such a grand way every day, but what I want to know…is it possible for me to get in early before there is anyone around?

"The ladies do not stir until late in the morning and the slaves are only in there as short time before then to prepare the room."

"So what time is safe to go in?"

"What sort of mischief are you going to get into? Why must you be alone?"

"It's not what you think. I just like my privacy." He looked as if he was really thinking over her request, so she added, "I will try to learn your ways, but I am not ready to surrender such a privacy yet."

"I will have the door unlocked for you at seven then."

She had barely said the words, thank you, when Hassan's forehead crinkled and he straightened up. It was as if he suddenly remembered something urgent he had to do, but would not tell her so. He left the room in haste, but not forgetting to lock the door behind him. She wished he had forgotten. That would have been a convenient escape.

She lied down on the bed and her first thought was that it was significantly more comfortable that Jolie's bed. Elora figured since she had to be kidnapped it was nice that she now had pleasant accommodations.

**Dear Readers,**

**Thanks for continuing to read my story. I have been working on this chapter for some months now, making alteration after alteration, but I am finally satisfied with it. I hope you really enjoy it. Chapter 30 should be posted in a few weeks. **

**~L.B. Tempia~**


	30. Chapter 30

11

CHAPTER 30

The morning came sooner than she was prepared for. She woke to the sound of her door being unlocked from the outside, but no one entered. She had slept well in the small bed. The fire had well burnt out, now only the embers glowed. It was chilly in the room, but not so much where she felt compelled to stay huddled under the covers.

It was still mostly dark outside; a sure sign winter was just about here. Elora went to the door and opened it. Madame Sakeena was standing patiently on the other side.

"I am to show you your way around the bath."

Elora was pleased Hassan had followed through with her request. As they walked she noticed the entire house still seemed asleep. Elora spoke in a whisper, "Hassan was so helpful last night. I am glad you sent him to me. Will he be able to come see me today?"

"Yes," she answered with a raised brow.

Madame Sakeena was not much of a conversationalist, but today she seemed even less so. Perhaps she was not a morning person and Elora wanting to do stuff so early had inconvenienced her.

The bathing room was far less intimidating this morning. Of course being empty and not as brightly lit may have had something to do with it. Madame Sakeena showed her where the toiletries, towels, and such were kept. Before excusing herself she also took the time to lay out some clothes for Elora to wear today.

Once alone, she hurried to wash her hair and bathe. She had not noticed yesterday how warm and relaxing the octagonal bathing pool was. She wondered how they kept it heated. Standing on the tips of her toes the water nearly reached her shoulders. The relaxing water was scented with roses and had petals floating about on the surface.

Elora gave herself a good scrubbing, which she had neglected yesterday because she had jumped in wearing clothes. After tiptoeing from the pool she dried herself off with a soft towel. It was then she saw she had enough bruises of all shades on her person that someone could have mistaken her for a punching bag. Not to mention the rope burns, scratches, and bump on her head. She had not really looked at herself since her fall off Chris' horse. She could hardly remember how long it had been since that day.

She could not get dressed fast enough. She was so worried someone would come in before she was finished, but no one did. Some dried fruit and nuts had been laid out, so she ate as she brushed her hair.

After being guided back to her room, the same boredom set in as it did yesterday. Today she had more energy and less anxiety. If she sat and did nothing her racing thoughts would give her a nervous breakdown. She took a look at the outfit she had hurried to put on this morning. It was a lovely pale pink color, a similar style to that which she had worn yesterday. The softness of the color reminded her of her ballet leotard. Then she had a brilliant idea, not an idea of escape like she should have been hatching. No this idea was a simple way of passing the time.

She moved some furniture and cleared an area in the middle of the room. Since she did not have her shoes with her she could not practice her pointe work, which was disappointing. On bare feet she did what she could for several hours, working gently with her sore shoulder in front of the small rectangular mirror. The balm Hassan had applied last night really did the trick. Today she barely felt the injury.

Hassan came in the room as she was in the middle of a grand-plié at her makeshift barre. He was definitely taken aback. This was the second time he just walked in without knocking, but it was not as if she were a guest here, she was a prisoner after all and had to expect such indecencies.

"Ah, Hassan, come in, come in. I've been waiting for you! Just busy getting my exercise at the moment. I'll be done in a few minutes though."

Though he appeared uncomfortable he stood by the door and continued to look on at her. She could not figure him out. He looked well today. In addition to Hassan's clean white uniform he wore a white turban, very stylish.

Standing only on her right leg, she bent down to the floor, keeping the supporting leg straight as her other leg pointed vertically up to the ceiling. She invited him to sit, but instead he began to walk around the room, passing through the furniture she had pushed aside, to get to the window. He stood there for some time looking out.

"You're looking well today, Hassan. You know I've always wondered how to wrap a turban like that? It seems complex, but I'm sure you have it down pat. Maybe someday you could show me how you do it. I know a few things about Muslim culture you know. That Sharia Law from the Quran you have is pretty interesting; not that I can agree with much of it. My friend in high school was Pakistani. We weren't super good friends, but we were in the same honors classes and were on the track team together, so we were thrown together a lot. Lost touch with her after graduation. I can't quite remember where she said she was going to college, but–"

He broke in, "You talk too much." Hassan turned to her now, looking truly annoyed. She could not imagine why he could be upset with her.

"I'm sorry." She hoped that would do the trick and he would be in a better mood. She dropped down to the floor in a complete split and stretched. "Sometimes I can overwhelm people. What you heard probably did not even make sense. I am always compelled to say what I think and I always mean what I say. It's just my way."

"Who do you think I am to speak to me so lightly?"

"What do you mean? You are Hassan."

"But you do not know anything of me. If you are who you claim to be why should you be speaking so openly with a slave? You have only but known me since yesterday, yet you seem at such ease to share words with me as you would an intimate acquaintance."

"It's just my way. My sense of morality conflicts with the imposed etiquette of this society concerning the treatment of those in different social ranks. Titles do not impress me. Your conversation is just as welcome as any courtier. I have many friends who work in the chateau at all capacities. I have to be discreet at times because I don't want them to get into trouble, but you have no idea how a simple 'good morning' can brighten even the lowliest servant's day."

"Even for a slave," he added with a smile.

"Hassan, I am so glad to know you, even though it's under these circumstances." She drank some water and rinsed her face in the washbasin.

"When I entered, your movements seemed…could they be for a dance?"

"Not a mere dance. This," she did some impressive foot work, "is _poetry of the foot_. Ballet is a confession of love from the soul. It is the tender expression of every emotion through movement of the body."

"I must see you dance someday," he added on a cheerful note.

Such a request was impossible in so many ways. She could do absolutely no pointe without her ballet shoes. "The day Louis comes to rescue me from this place you will see me dance for joy."

"Not before then?" he looked pleadingly.

She was surprised he cared so much. "Well I might be persuaded if I find out that Sameer Mendak is old, debilitated, and impotent."

He laughed, but said nothing. He sat along with her on the chaise. She stretched her arms back behind her, resting them on the backrest, which was the first time she was able to do that since her fall off the horse. Perhaps now she could seriously consider executing an escape. She briefly sighed with satisfaction.

"I must tell you, when I entered this room yesterday I came under the apprehension you were a delicate flower from the king's court. I expected a weeping maid huddled in some corner or banging at doors, screaming for release. Instead I find myself utterly confounded by you."

"You could not be more wrong, Hassan. I _have_ wept and I am certain I will weep some more. Being kidnapped has been terrifying, though in some ways not quite a frightful as other…ah…_experiences_. Being in the hands of those filthy, murderous idiots was awful, but I fear where I am now even more. This house," she looked around her, "looks grand and decent with its finery and dutiful servants, but it is in fact a den where the devil lives, behind locked doors and in dark is your master I fear the most. Is he a fanatic? Power-mad? Greedy? Insane? Jealous? Murderous? Lecherous? I do not know anything about him, except for what he has tried to do to Louis and is now doing to me. I wonder what will become of me in his hands. I am at the mercy of a depraved criminal who I'm sure would like nothing more than to make me another one of his slaves. I am not a stupid woman. I know what will become of me if I remain here. I cannot help but shutter at the thought of that perverted, old polygamist turning me into one of his whores."

"You speak so badly of the master, yet you have never been acquainted with him."

"I'm sorry, Hassan. I know for some reason you like him, though I can't see why considering you are a slave to him. Does he really deserve such loyalty?"

"Whether he deserves it or not, certain things are obligatory."

"That is not true. Every person is entitled to basic human rights."

"Perhaps every Christian."

"No," she said sharply. "For everyone, no matter their religion or race. God gave us freedom when he created us and no mortal has any right to take a human life as his property. Louis and I have discussed this on several occasions.–Don't you want freedom? With that you can do anything. You can become educated, learn a trade, be self-reliant, perhaps love and find a companion to share your life with."

"You should not speak of what you do not know."

"Oh I know a bit about freedom and having it taken away. If you only knew the half of it, before I came…no, I should not think to say such things. Louis has been very good to me and allowed me far more liberties than I could hope for here. Oh I love that man." Allowing a minute to collect herself she soon continued, "What I mean to emphasize is with freedom and a goal you can do anything. Men can do so much here, not like women. You should ask Lord Mendak whether or not you would be able to buy your freedom or something along those lines."

"I could never." Hassan turned his face away from her, seemingly ashamed of his own words.

"Or maybe we could escape together. I'm sure Louis could find something for you at Versailles. In fact, once I'm queen I will have a great need for good people helping me with things. Perhaps you could be one of them."

"Would that not simply be going from one master to another?"

"Certainly not, Hassan. I only have one servant now, but I know she is receiving wages from the household accounts. She has so much free time she is always helping others. She has plenty of time to herself and for seeing that boy in the kitchen she's always talking about. And we must not forget the greatest difference, Suzanne always has the choice whether she wants to continue working for me or not. She can always leave if she desires."

"Slaves only have one purpose; to serve without question."

"Is that what they have brain-washed you to believe? Well, don't believe it. You are just as deserving of freedom as Lord Mendak. You must believe in yourself."

He squinted at her. "You truly believe that don't you."

She smiled. "Because it's truth.–So will you help me escape and join me."

"I could not." He seemed determined in his words.

"Well, tell me if you change your mind. Until then can you do me a favor?"

"What would that be?"

"Can you report to Madame Sakeena that I am a very rude and willful woman. That my behavior has not improved and that I am not fit to be graced with Lord Mendak's presence."

"You think that will protect you?" His voice grew deep.

"Hey, I'll play that card for as long as I can to avoid that man. I just know seeing Lord Mendak will be a mistake. In stories whenever a captive sees the kidnapper she's done for. She never gets away or she ends up dead; buried in the woods or thrown into a foundation as it's being laid or being chopped up and fed to the fishes. I don't want to end up like that.–So will you do this for me?"

"Your behavior is willful and inappropriate for the company of Lord Mendak, so such a report will not be a struggle."

"Oh thank you!" She hugged him. She was so glad to be surrounded by kind people during this ordeal, first Jolie and now Hassan.

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In the midst of Elora and Hassan conversing there was a knock at the door. Elora stood first and Hassan was up not a moment later. They looked at each other both puzzled at who could be there. It was not yet mealtime.

"Oh my God, Hassan," she took hold of his hand and squeezed it tightly. "What if it's Lord Mendak?"

Hassan had no comforting words, he merely shook his head assuredly. She heard the door unlock and a young man entered with a note in hand. He stopped by the door and looked at them. Elora sighed with relief and released Hassan's hand. His look was brief at her, then to Hassan with a nervous glance. She turned her head toward Hassan and he was giving the servant a wide-eyed stare of warning.

Elora was about to go to the servant with an outstretched hand, when Hassan quickly stepped in front of her and snatched the note from him. As the servant scurried out and locked the door, Elora imitated Hassan's boorish behavior and snatched the note from him. It was obviously for her, though she could not imagine whom it could be from.

She was quick to question Hassan. "So what's going on between you two? I saw you give him the stare of death. You scared him off pretty quick, I couldn't even get his name. Are you fighting with him?"

He huffed, "You could say that."

She opened the note to find the text was not only in another language, but the writing appeared to be a form of Arabic lettering. "I hope you can read this or I'm sunk." She gave it back to Hassan.

He took it from her without a word said. "Well?" she asked as he perused the note.

"It is sent by Lady Rasha. She invites you to her room for refreshment in an hour's time."

"That sounds nice. Why is there unease in your voice?"

"I am quite certain this was sent to you without the master's consent and I sense the women may be up to something."

"Perhaps she is just being hospitable."

"Or she wants to see if you will be a threat to take her husband's attention away from her."

"Well if that is her greatest fault I'm sure we will get along. If you were to tell me of her having conniving, deceitful tendencies like her husband then I might be more than a little worried. I will just have to let her know the polygamist is all hers. I want no contact with the man, as I have said."

"But he may desire contact with you; that is the point."

She ran her hand through her hair nervously. "You don't think he will be there today, do you?"

"No. Men typically do not go to the women's quarters."

"Will you will be coming with me?"

"Lady Rasha's slave will come for you. I have tarried here far too long, I must go."

So he left her. She was unsure of what to do. She rarely called on strangers and she was not sure how she should behave in front of this woman. Was Lady Rasha aware she was a captive or was she under the apprehension that Elora was the latest edition to the master's collection of slave women? Perhaps Elora would find a friend in her and she might help her escape. Even if they were to be hated enemies from the start, as Hassan made it appear then Rasha would still be more than welcome to help her escape if she wanted Elora out of the house.

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Rasha, being the second wife of the household, though basking in splendor, had little power. Lord Mendak's first wife, Muna, was his treasure. Muna was five years her senior and had been married to Lord Mendak only a year longer than Rasha. Muna received his love first and such love was not displaced when Rasha entered the household as the second wife.

She had been given as a gift by the emperor himself. Her own parents were not even consulted when the decision was made in the royal palace. The emperor desired an alliance between both families and so the match was made.

Lord Mendak was a considerate husband, though she knew she was neither the favored female in the house, nor was she the most beautiful. She cared for him as a dutiful wife should, void of bitterness. Her only wish from the day she became a wife was to bear him a child, preferably before Lady Muna conceived. They shared a bed often enough, though not as often as did Muna. It was difficult enough trying to keep his attention from his concubines, but now this new woman in the household as well.

Rasha knew much of this young noblewoman, Elora Roux, from the French court. Hearing the court news practically on a weekly basis, she had been surprised how rapidly this strange girl had gone from ward to mistress to betrothed of the king. Now the rumored eccentric was in this house.

Lord Mendak's orders had been strict about the girl before she had even been dragged into the house. Elora Roux was here indefinitely. Her status in the house was somewhere between the concubines and the slaves. Yet Lord Mendak seemed quite content to keep her like a caged animal for the time being.

It was whispered in the seraglio that Lord Mendak had hidden himself in the women's quarters this morning and watched the girl bathe. He must have taken pleasure in her face and form, for it was said she might soon become another of his nameless concubines.

Elora Roux's beauty was spoken of in France as frequently as were her eccentricities and unique accomplishments. Rasha was desperate to lay eyes on the girl. It had been a challenge trying to catch a glimpse. The girl was almost entirely kept in her room with chains on the doors. She did go to the baths, but kept such strange hours as avoid company. Rasha could not very well go to the girl's room, so she would have to come to her.

She knew she should have asked permission before sending an invitation to the girl, but she was certain Lord Mendak would have denied her request. He would likely hear about it after the fact and reproach her for it initially, but forgive her interference forthwith.

It was announced to her the girl was on her way. In preparation, Rasha had ordered some sweetmeats and hot chai. Such would suit the girl who was to be the next French queen. Lady Elora Roux entered with grace, treading upon the air of caution. She did not appear to be dressed in fresh attire and the scent of her morning bath had faded. She looked well in the sense that she had good color and a healthy figure. Her short braid was and tied with a satin ribbon. Her smile was quite pleasing and Rasha was quite amazed to see she still had all of her teeth and they were remarkably white.

Rasha's French was poor, but was glad when Lady Elora told her that French was not her first language either. She could detect a faint accent from her, but could not place it, until the lady offered her such knowledge. She was a Frenchwoman who lived in an English colony speaking their native tongue. How strange was that? Perhaps that explained the eccentricities she had heard rumor of, though she could see none of it today.

Lady Elora just loved the tea and told her she had not had a cup this good in years. Elora used to go visit a friend by the name of _Starbucks_ where they served her this drink, but it was not as good as today, which pleased Rasha. The secret ingredient added to this tea was a bit of ginger, which enhanced its natural flavors.

Elora talked a great deal of Versailles and King Louis. Her stories about her caring for him through his illness and the beginnings of their romance were fascinating. King Louis was said to impose a very strict court protocol, yet from what Elora said when he spent time with her he did not seem to care much for protocol. Rasha never imagined anyone would swim in a fountain, but lovers often performed ridiculous acts during courtship. Elora Roux's love appeared pure, so much so that it seemed like nothing would be able to keep her here. Rasha knew very well that her husband had different plans. She was so conflicted, yet somehow wished for happiness on both side of this.

At least Rasha did not need to worry about competing with another woman here in the seraglio. When the name of Lord Mendak arose, the expression of hatred and disgust was not easily concealed on that porcelain face of Lady Elora. She had not known her husband was involved in a plot to kill the king. She had thought…but it did not matter anymore.

Lady Rasha invited her to join her tomorrow in the baths, but a modest refusal drew from Elora's mouth almost instantly. Rasha did her best to reassure her, but nothing could convince her.

Elora stood thanking her for the invitation of today's encounter and emphasized how pleased she was to know her. Just then a small manservant was pushed through the doorway and announced Lady Muna, the honorable first wife. Rasha knew exactly the purpose of this ambush.

Muna entered, finely arrayed in her best, with the countless jewels Lord Mendak had gifted her with. Muna's first task was to fully examine Elora's features at all angles while walking about her. Irritated, Elora remained with eyebrows raised as she was surveyed. Elora was certainly not intimidated, which was a good sign.

Muna knew French well, but refused to admit to the ability of speaking. She always took her slave with her to translate. She did her best to humble Lady Elora, but such was not within her capacity. Her condescending words were nothing Elora had not heard many times over at court. Muna insisted on referring to Lady Elora as "the pale slave" in her native Berber language. Thank goodness Elora could not recognize such an insult.

Then Lady Muna, as if these were her rooms and this were her encounter, insisted Rasha play some music to entertain them. When Elora found out what was said she emphatically encouraged Rasha to do so. She conceded and had a servant fetch her qanun.

The qanun was a descendent of the harp. It was a trapezoid-shaped flat board over which eighty-one strings were stretched. Rasha placed the instrument flat on her knees and plucked at the strings with her fingers, creating a harmonious sound.

She had always excelled in music and her family invited many masters to teach her as a child. It was said to be a valuable accomplishment when married, for then she would be able to play for the enjoyment of her husband and his guests, but Lord Mendak did not often take pleasure in this talent of hers. In fact, she could remember of only three occasions where she was ever requested to play since she was married and today was one of those occasions.

Elora clapped and praised her for her talents so flamboyantly Rasha nearly blushed. She was not accustomed to such attention. Elora told her she had never seen nor heard the qanun played. She was very excited and asked her many questions, ranging from the details and history of the qanun to how long she had played. All the while Muna sat with a scowl, despising all the praise and attention Rasha was receiving.

Finally tired of being ignored, Muna stood abruptly and left the room without a word. Elora turned to Rasha and they both burst into laughter. This was the most pleasant day Rasha had in this household since they relocated to France.

Elora left her shortly after because Rasha received a message from her eunuch, Nazeem, that Lord Mendak wanted her for tonight. Her first instinct was to be pleased, but then she worried Muna had complained to him about taking Elora for company. He might wish to scold her or perhaps worse. The bastinado was always a threat hanging over the head of the girls in the seraglio if they displeased the master.

Though Rasha had never been punished in such a fashion she had heard one of his concubines was not so fortunate. It had happened not long before she married him, she knew Muna was in the household when the event occurred for she is the one who told her. The girl had done something that had offended him and it was said he beat the soles of her feet mercilessly. She could not walk for over a month and when she could walk she was taken to the market and sold.

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Elora returned to her room, guided by one of Lady Rasha's servants. She did her best to memorize the hallway's structure, but even after walking back and forth a half dozen times since she was brought to this house she was still mostly confused. It was as if it was purposely designed to disorient, like the house of mirrors at carnivals.

She almost asked Rasha if she would help her escape or at least suggest a good time or means of exit, but Elora decided it was too soon to ask such a thing of the wife of her captor. Perhaps she would bring it up the next time she saw her, if she had not figured it out for herself by then.

She realized from how dark it had gotten outside her window how late it must be getting. It seemed too late in the evening to do much of anything and she was far from tired. She decided to try opening her window once again. Perhaps it would budge with her weight pushing against it. She pushed the desk up against the window and got up on it hopefully to figure out how they had sealed it closed.

She had not been jiggling the latch more than five minutes when Hassan entered carrying her supper tray. She turned around guiltily and jumped from the desk with a thump.

He shook his head in disapproval. "Dare I even ask? Do you plan to be found in such unnatural states or do you not notice?"

"Perhaps," she began with haughtily, "tomorrow you will not see me at all."

"What do you insinuate?" He put down the tray with a clatter.

"Nothing." She blinked innocently. "Nothing at all."

Hassan's eyes narrowed. "You will not escape this house." From his harsh tone he sounded determined.

"We'll see," she chimed confidently.

"Now I am not certain you deserve the gift I brought you."

"What, the supper tray?" Her arms went to her hips. Hassan seemed to be getting on her nerves tonight deliberately.

He pulled from his pouch a deck of playing cards.

"Oh Hassan, how sweet of you! Please may I have them?"

He handed them over with a half smile. She asked if he wanted to split her dinner and join her, but he refused. Hassan was accustomed to eating later in the evening.

"I don't know why you were so concerned about my meeting Lady Rasha. She is lovely you know; a 17th century woman of the highest quality. Though we are from very different cultures we bonded quite well. We were having such a nice time until Lady Muna barged in. I have seldom met a woman ruder and lacking gentility. Between you and me I cannot see why the husband favors Muna over Rasha."

"Is that what Lady Rasha says?"

"No, but I could read between the lines when she spoke of him. I think his preferring the first to the second must be because Muna is most like him. It makes sense, I mean, how else could a man prefer a vapid, sour woman to a genuinely beautiful and kind one."

"I hardly know." Hassan seemed distant again, as if he were thinking about something else.

"I hope I'm not keeping you. You must be hungry by now. I'm all set. I have fresh pajamas laid out for me, thanks by the way, for I know it must have been you. I think I'll play a few games of cards and then go to bed."

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Elora woke to Hassan entering the room. She was surprised to see him, for she knew he kept late hours with his household duties and was allotted more time to sleep in the mornings. She sat up and put her robe on, wishing him good morning. "What are you doing here so early? Checking up on me?"

"I feared you might have flung yourself out the window last night. I had to…"

"Check and see if I were still here and mostly alive," she finished. "Yes I am both. You feel like coming with me to the baths this morning?"

"I thought you enjoyed your privacy."

"Yes, I do, but I don't really need to get super clean today and I thought you might wish to take a swim with me. Or is that against the rules? Yesterday no one was around so I can't imagine us getting caught today?"

"The pool is not for swimming, but purposely for bathing."

"Yeah, but why not enjoy both activities at once. I know a lot of fun pool games. I used to play such games with my brothers all the time in the summer at Aunt Jill's pool."

He took a moment before answering, but finally agreed. "Excellent!" Elora exclaimed.

They journeyed together and Elora could not help a skip in her step. She never thought she would ever again be able to relax in a heated pool again, no matter in the cold months of winter. Yet even in 1662 it was obviously possible. She wished Louis would build something this nice at Versailles. Upon entering the baths Elora went to dip her fingers in the warm water of the pool. She turned to find Hassan removing his clothes. "What are you doing?" He already had his shirt off and was working at the drawstring of his pants.

"Undressing to go into the pool."

"Do you have a spare outfit to wear today?"

"Of course I do."

"I'm sure as hell not skinny dipping today. I'm staying in these yellow pajamas. I would suggest you go in wearing your pants." She jumped in the pool purposely splashing Hassan in the process. She laughed and as he knelt and eased himself into the water. "The water is only about 5 feet deep, but you do know how to swim, don't you?"

"Yes, if I must I am able."

She suggested racing from one end of the pool to the other then back again. Hassan agreed, but made it understood he was no strong swimmer. As they raced she could see why he was not extremely good; his strokes were all over the place. He appeared to be floundering. She realized early on she could easily get ahead and win. She could not do that to him though. Hassan was so good and tolerant of her, so she purposely threw the race. Yes, she let him win by a couple seconds. Hassan was pleased, but did not crow about it.

Between walking handstands, atomic whirlpool, and Marco Polo they nearly lost track of time. They heard the house beginning to stir and smelt the scent of fresh bread from the kitchen.

They hurried out of the pool and dried off. She had not washed her hair, but it could wait until tomorrow. She picked up the clothes that had been laid out for her, spring green and purple today.

On their way back to her room Elora noticed as she walked past a window it had begun to snow. She stopped there for a mere second and then pressed on without Hassan noticing. She had planned to do so many fun activities with Louis this winter. She wanted so ever much to share with him her Christmas traditions and perhaps they would begin their own. If she did not get out of here there would not even be a Christmas celebrated in this house.

Her eyes grew watery. She tried to look away from Hassan who was walking beside her, but he saw. He asked what was wrong and she was forthright telling him.

"I really must get out of here. This is not right. I keep looking back over what has happened and thinking it is so crazy it cannot be possible. Then I look around and have proof that it's really happening." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't burden you with such things. It's not like you put me here. I'm just missing Louis is all."

"Grief passes with time."

"So I'm told." She knew her grief would not. It was not as if Louis was dead or God had sent her home with a purpose. It was not that he was gone or that there had been a rift. No she was kidnapped and being held against her will and worst of all being kept away from Louis. Her fiancé might only be miles away and she could do nothing but wait for him to find her.

"My clothes," she began, "which I came here with were supposed to be returned to me when clean and dry. Do you think you can check on that for me? I'd be ever so grateful."

"That is something I can do."

Hassan did not return to her until later in the afternoon. She had been writhing in anxiety for the past six hours. He entered holding a folded pile of her clothes. In haste she snatched it all from him and set it on the bed. She shooed him away, but he did not withdraw.

"What is this lunacy, Elora?"

She had hoped to do this privately, but now she had the clothes in her hands she could not wait for Hassan to decide to leave the room. She riffled through the clothes with madness in her eyes. She found her chemise and began to examine the hem. She discovered her hem had been torn apart and alas her ring was gone.

She was hyperventilating and weeping with panic. "It's not here! I never should have left it out of my sight! Oh God, why is this happening?"

"Are you missing something?" He stepped beside her.

"Yes! It's very precious. Either someone in the this house stole it or—"

"Perhaps," he cautioned. "You misplaced it before you came to us or the dirty thieves stole it off you as you slept."

"No, no! It was right here." She held up the ivory chemise to him. "Jolie sewed it in exactly here. I know it was still there after I got out of the pool the day before yesterday. I would have removed it, but I was so very worried it might be taken from me by force if left conspicuously on my person."

"And now it is gone just the same."

"How can you be so indifferent to this?"

"I do not even know what you are speaking of."

She hesitated for a moment. "It is my engagement ring," she huffed. "Louis gave it to me with all his love and with the promise we would spend the rest of our lives together. I feel so stupid. I never should have let that chemise out of my sight. Where was my brain that day? And why did I not think about it again until today?" She flopped down onto the bed and wept into her hands. "My life is falling apart."

"Elora," Hassan spoke, but she barely heard him. Her thoughts were of Louis, how she missed him! "Elora Roux!" Hassan shouted.

Finally she looked up to him with blurred vision. He was right beside her holding her emerald ring in his dark hand. She wiped her eyes. "How?"

"You are very lucky it was not destroyed. The laundress found it when it was being cleaned, so I am told. Are you so silly not to know that all clothes get rolled through a press? I thought even a simpleton knew of that."

She grabbed the ring from him and leapt up giving him a great, big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, oh, thank you! You are the best Hassan! I don't know what I would do without you in this place!"

He laughed and commented how women were so emotional. He excused himself, insisting he had much work to finish this evening. She sighed with relief thanking God that she got her ring back. Perhaps this was a sign, she was going to get back to Louis. Hassan would help her in the end, she knew. They had bonded. He would sneak away with her at the last minute. He would no longer be a slave and Louis would honor him, she would see to that. Elora took solace that Louis would have this Lord Mendak punished for his crimes. Whether Hassan came with her now or not she would get him his freedom either way.

Elora was busy daydreaming on the chaise and observing how her engagement ring shined in the firelight when a servant woman entered with her supper tray. She was another slave, no doubt. Elora had practically been seeing a new person for every meal. It was hard to believe he had so many slaves in one household. None of whom she had been able to speak with and this woman was no different. She did not attempt to communicate with her, not a smile, not even eye contact. She was just a speechless drone carrying a tray.

The servant was a bit older and perhaps forgetful; for Elora could see from where she sat the woman had left the door open a crack when she entered. Elora's mind began to scheme. The servant set down the tray shakily. Elora watched as the glass of wine tipped over and shattered.

She could not stop herself from pushing over the woman, grabbing the broken glass and running to the open door. The key was there in the keyhole. Elora hurried to slam the door behind her and shakily lock it. She began to run, holding the key in one hand and the broken glass in the other.

Especially now in the darkness of the night the halls all looked the same. She hardly knew where she was going. She had hurried down the main stairs when cries bellowed throughout the house. Everyone would be looking for her in the next few seconds and she was still far away from the exit she had planned for. Her mind was racing about as rapidly as the blood pumping through her veins. She hesitated on what to do next. She should have planned this out better. It had snowed today and she was not even wearing shoes. As the milliseconds passed she had a sinking feeling, like her impulse to runaway had been a very big mistake.

She heard the thumping of heavy feet racing down the stairs. She scrambled into the closest room with her one pitiful weapon in hand. At first glance as she hurried into the room she saw no one and could hear nothing but her pounding heart. She closed the door to a sliver of a crack and peered out in the dimly lit halls. The sentry flew past the door, separating to scour the first floor in search of her.

A movement from behind captured her attention. She turned to see Hassan not an arms-length from her. "Oh Hassan," she whispered as she gave him a quick hug. "What are you doing here?" She moved past him to the windows, determining whether she could get out through there without making much noise.

"I was attempting to ask the same of you."

"Escaping of course. Failing miserably at it too. Do you have any suggestions how to get out of here? I wish you would come with me."

Again she heard movement within the room and this time it was not Hassan. Someone else was there. Elora looked to the left around a sharp corner, to see a room of mirrors with a round bed in the center and Lady Muna was sitting on the edge. When they gained sight of each other Lady Muna jumped from the bed speaking in her native tongue to Hassan. She went to Hassan pulling on his arm, chattering incessantly not ceasing a moment to breathe.

Shit, Elora thought! Had she unknowingly burst into Muna's room? Yet she did not think she was still in the women's quarters. She was about to make a mad dash for the windows when she noticed Hassan was not dressed in his usual white uniform. His kurta and pantaloons were of a fine quality of red silk, richly embroidered. There was long rope of black pearls wrapped around his neck three or four times. A gold-plated dagger hung from his glossy cummerbund.

Muna was still talking to him, but Elora could not stop herself from asking over Muna's foreign whining, "Hassan, what is this? Why are you dressed like that?"

He spoke a few words harshly in his native tongue directed toward Muna and she immediately stopped talking. Elora could not believe what she just saw. In raising his voice to Muna, it was obvious Hassan had admonished her into silence. What had Elora gotten into here? Who was Hassan and what sort of position did he have in this household?

"Why are you here with your master's wife? Am I dreaming or are you–"

Hassan smiled at her deviously. "Hmm," he mumbled gruffly. He pushed Muna away and took an intimidating step closer to Elora.

"Hassan?"

"No, Sameer."

"Sameer?" Her face scrunched up in puzzlement.

"Yes." Again he took a step closer to her. "Lord Sameer Mendak."

"What!" She backed into the wall in utter shock. Her stomach turned. "No, you can't be. You've been a friend to me. Madame Jessenia sent you. You came into my room to serve me."

"No that is what you assumed I was there to do."

"But you answered to the name Hassan."

He shrugged his shoulders as if his duplicity were trifle, like it had been as innocent as telling a child there was a Santa Claus.

Elora rubbed her forehead in agitation. "Then everything's been a lie." He did not answer. "What now?"

"I've already called for my men."

She nodded, understanding the gravity of this revelation. This was not acceptable. "Yeah that's not going to happen. I'm not staying here!" She lunged at Sameer Mendak, grabbing for his dagger. He pushed her off him, but she now had his dagger as she stumbled backwards. Just as Elora unsheathed the blade she was hit hard in the head from behind and knocked forcefully to the floor. She nearly blacked out.

When she looked up a large, African man was there with a long, thick blade pointed toward and pressing against her chest. Fear coursed through her as she tried to catch her breath and think of a way out of this mess. Though she still had a good grasp on the dagger she now dropped it, sensing she was thoroughly beaten. The man pulled her up to her feet, tearing her kameez in the process.

The sword was now at her throat as he pulled her injured shoulder far behind her back. She could feel a tearing sensation in her shoulder and she winced in pain, but would not give him the gratification of a cry.

The guard asked Sameer Mendak something, but he hesitated to answer. It was then Sameer took a deep look at her. She knew he was deciding her fate in this moment.

"Just do it!" Elora hissed. "I've always known what sort of man you are…wicked. You must know I'll never stop fighting to get out of here. Put an end to it. Kill me now."

Sameer nodded; not to her, but to the guard. Her head dropped down as her eyes clamped shut for perhaps the last time. "God…please… Jesus please forgive him and commend me into your kingdom."

Then there was a great blackness and her troubles disappeared.

**Dear Readers, **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter of The Celestial City. I had fun writing it. I wished I could have written a successful escape, but I think Sameer Mendak is going to be a very interesting character to get to know. Let's see what he plans to do next in Chapter 31! I already have so many ideas!**

**This chapter is dedicated to my friend, Nikki, who has been dying to read it for two weeks and has asked me about it every time she sees me. **

**I really appreciate feedback so please review and let me know what you think! I love hearing from you, it's nice to know you're out there. God bless!**

**L.B. Tempia**


	31. Chapter 31

23

CHAPTER 31

The design to kill the French king had been in motion for some time. Sameer's part in it had been minimal, until the Comtesse de Valréas entered his house. Such a turn of events had not been anticipated; he never intended to become so involved. The riffraff he hired had been awaiting his communication for months. When word reached Sameer that the king was taking a sudden journey to Chartres he knew this would be the perfect time to strike. What he did not anticipate was the royal family pulling a switch with the carriages. It was an atrocious decision for the riffraff to take the Comtesse alive, but what truly infuriated him was that they conspicuously brought her into his household.

Sameer detested how the Comtesse had become his responsibility; that was until he saw how radiant the Comtesse was. She was everything he had heard and more. Her smile was charming and her manner engaging. Her comfort was easy to secure and her protestations were minimal. He could not have chosen a more pleasant captive.

When she mistook him for a eunuch he could not stop himself from impersonating such a lowly creature. She was so endearing and he knew she would never be half so agreeable with the knowledge of his true person. He had meant to reveal the truth on first meeting, but every time he was about to assert himself as master of the house she would say something that enchanted him further. She must have held a similar power over the king. After seeing her bare back and touching her soft skin he knew he would return again and again to that room as Hassan the eunuch.

At first he found it an amusing game, playing along with her mistake and then dealing her the blow of who he was. It was not quite the unveiling he had envisioned. He somewhat regretted it now. She would never be so honest with him again. Her generous Christian heart would now be closed to him.

Though Elora had spoken of escape he assumed it was dramatic exaggeration and out of fear she would never hazard such an endeavor. Mistaken, to his deepest embarrassment, in front of his proudest woman no less, Elora did in fact impetuously escape her locked quarters. To the best of his luck, and the worst of hers, she entered into his chambers whilst looking for a means of escape. If she had not chosen his particular room to slip into she would have likely made it out onto the grounds, if not to the main road, before she was recaptured.

Lady Muna had been quite infuriated by Elora's behavior toward him. He excused his wife as the slaves tied Elora, which further incensed her for she had depended on staying the night in his rooms. Unfortunately for her Elora drew his interest far more than she.

Now Comtesse Elora lay bound on the floor, unconscious and completely ravishing. When she would wake she would no longer look upon him kindly, he had become the discernible enemy. He had gone from a befriended eunuch to a despised kidnapper.

Sameer watched as Elora began to stir and rolled over with a moan. Her tussled red hair was striking against his blue carpet. She would hate him further for what he was soon to do, but her ill behavior required discipline. The functioning of his household depended on his rule being sacred. He could not allow a foreigner, with a feverish tendency, to go unpunished. Her failed escape and her attempted assault of him could not be ignored. He sent Imad, chief of his sentry for the switch.

Elora's eyes narrowed on him. Her stare could freeze water in the hottest climate. She roughly twisted on the floor and insisted he turn her loose. When he laughed her anger only amplified. Imad would return soon with the switch, but Sameer would not let her know her fate until he returned.

"You know," Elora began. She rolled onto her back and flipped up to a standing position before Sameer could blink. How she did so with her wrists bound behind her back he did not know. "You're a real pervert going around pretending to be an innocent eunuch. What was the point in deceiving me? You just let me chatter on and on! You never–"

"I let you chatter on because you amused me. I am seldom amused by a woman."

"I suppose I should be flattered." Her sarcasm did not escape him. She looked him up and down, shaking her head. "I thought you were a kind man, now I'm betrayed by my first impression. You will no doubt destroy me."

"Is that intended to sting my honor?" His grin displayed his mere amusement at the situation, which further infuriated her.

"_Honor_? Ha! I doubt you have any. I'm sure you took it as a compliment."

"You do not seem to understand your place here, girl. You are not a guest in this house. You were brought here as a prisoner and I have decided you will remain here."

"Listen here, buddy, you're dreaming." She backed away from him.

"You Frenchwomen have far more freedom than Allah permits. Though I am not completely dissatisfied with your features, I find your manner and address both immodest and audacious. I condescend much to live in this Christian country, but I will not allow such unsuitable behavior in my own house. You will behave like the rest of the women in my seraglio. I am your better and you will honor me as such."

She could not help but raise her chin to such a comment. "I'll explain this to you as I once explained it to Louis. I am not your servant, slave, or sex-toy. I would not alter myself for Louis and I most certainly have no intention of altering myself for you. You are my kidnapper and jail-keeper; the lowest and most despicable of men. If you do not like my behavior, then I suggest you either kill me or let me go because I am going to become the biggest pain in your ass you ever had."

"You must learn respect for me. I am now your _master_."

She laughed and defied his attempt to intimidate her. "No, you're not. No one can own me."

"You are surely incorrect. You will learn your place tonight."

"Never!" Elora screamed.

Suddenly her arms came flying from behind her back. She had untied the ropes! In a futile attempt to get hold of her, he chased her around the sofa a few times. She was too quick for him though. "Get the hell away from me, you creep!"

At last she did what no lady of breeding would ever dream of doing; in two steps she had jumped on the sofa and over the back in the direction of the windows. Every window she tried was locked. As she picked up his inkwell to hurl at the glass pane he grabbed her. Elora's wrists were so tiny in his grasp. Her face revealed her terror, yet she was still so beautiful. Everything about the chase had gotten his blood pumping. He spun her around so her back was up against him. He began kissing her the nape of her neck.

"No, stop," Elora begged.

Without noticing until it was too late she had put her arm under and around his, moved her leg behind his, and finally she tensed her muscles and rapidly bent forward, taking him with her. She released at just the perfect time and he was flipped over her to the ground, on his back.

"I said stop!" Elora Roux yelled.

He was lying flat on his back because of that girl. Such a feat was amazing, yet disturbing. How could a woman know of these defense techniques and be able to perform them successfully on a man? How could a lady of delicate breeding destined to be a queen be so capable of this? What sort of evil spirit could be possessing her?

He could not recover himself fast enough to speak to her, no matter catch up to her running from the room. She came to a roaring halt as she crashed into Imad in the doorway. As Imad pushed her back into the room Abbas filed in behind him. Both men took hold of her arms. They pinned her so tightly she was not going anywhere, even though she tried her best to wiggle from their grasp. She even raised her legs up to get them to drop her, but all that accomplished was her being suspended in air for a moment.

"Now you will be punished for your defiance," Sameer roared.

"Punished?" Elora darted her gaze toward him. "For defending my life! You're crazy!"

"You _must_ learn compliance and not to question my authority."

Sameer came forward and spoke haughtily now that he had regained control. Before he could react defensively she kicked up both of her legs, slamming him in the chest with great force. The bitch knocked the wind out of him! As he fell back, he crashed into a table.

The two slaves must have loosened their grasp at that moment because she got away from them. Abbas remained to block the door, as Imad went for her. Her fate was inevitable. She could not escape that room, but she was giving them hell for it. She began to grab anything that was not nailed down and hurled it at them.

Finally, after much struggle, she was pushed down flat on her back. The slaves diligently tied her wrists and ankles. She screamed for help, even though there was no one to hear who would help.

"I have always thought," Sameer circled around her cautiously, "that every slave should have something to fear if they should disobey me. You have been here for just three days and you have caused more trouble than any slave I have ever possessed. You will now have twenty strokes to your back with the switch."

She was dragged outside kicking and screaming. Sameer first wrapped himself in a fur-lined overcoat and then followed outside. Though they had a dusting of snow this morning, it was now gone. Only the bitterness of cold, damp air remained. She had already been tied at the wrists to a low-hanging tree branch. Abbas and Imad held up a couple of brightly burning torches for him.

"Sameer Mendak, I demand you to stop this at once!" Elora attempted to say with a commanding air, though it did not sound thus as her voice trembled. "If you do this there is no going back. Louis will punish you without mercy. I _already_ fear my life at your hands. Isn't that enough? If you hit me with that stick, so help me God, I will–"

"Enough of your incessant chatter! The punishment stands at twenty strokes."

Her breath became heavy as she began to panic. "Please, don't!" she screamed. He continued on as planned, taking the switch from Abbas. Though she had been tied with her back to him, she turned her head as far back as she could. She did not look at him though; it was the switch that captured her gaze. Tears cascaded down her face.

Her plea for mercy had come to a stop. Instead, spouting from her lips in a whimper was a prayer to the mother of her god. He almost dropped the switch when he realized she was speaking in English, the language of the British. His dear mother had be an English slave purchased from a Spanish slave trader. He knew the language well, but had not heard it in years. Elora Roux spoke so beautifully, bringing to mind many memories of his mother. He nearly untied Elora and carried her inside, just to hear her speak more, but he knew he must fulfill what he set out to do.

Even as the beating began she repeated those and other similar words of prayer in a gasping murmur.

Finally Sameer finished with the twentieth stroke. He could not face her, but said, "You will repeat these words: _Lord Sameer Mendak is my master. I shall be obedient to his every command._"

"Never! I won't lie to humor your pride. You're not my master. You could hit me with that stick the entire night and I wouldn't repeat those words."

Sameer was just as angry as before. "Indeed? Another twenty then!"

"Fine! Do what you must to save face!"

He knew she had defeated him. He beat her again and again midst his anger; so much so he nearly lost count. Her shirt had begun to shred and the welts on her back began to bleed. Yet still he could hear her praying.

Another twenty were finished. He still wanted her to say he was her master, which of course she never would. How could he tactfully convince her just to agree with him in this, without actually saying, _I no longer wish to beat you. Just agree so this may stop_. "Elora, I..."

"You're not my master!"

"I will persist until you say it."

"Then we will be here till I die."

Abbas and Imad, who stood nearby, both looked to Sameer. He recommenced the beating, but had no heart to put force behind it. Her head began to slump down onto her chest. She repeated softly, "Please forgive him," over and over. He stopped when he no longer heard her speaking. She was likely one more strike away from falling unconscious. Sameer ordered Abbas to return her to her room and stand guard at her door for the night.

ooOoo

Elora should have passed out from sheer exhaustion when the slave dropped her down on her bed, but she did not. She never imagined such torture was possible. It was not as if she had been unknowing of tools for beating and torture, but the idea of be assaulted in such a way was a hazy imagining.

Hassan had been her friend only hours ago and now the same man by a different name had committed such an atrocity against her. She did not think being dragged outside in the freezing cold wearing on a single layer could have been any worse. When that stick hit her back for the first time the pain was horrific and it only got worse with every swing. When he stopped the first time she thought for a moment perhaps he had seen the error of his ways or his ego was satisfied. Then he had to make such demands. As soon as she answered she knew the torture had only begun. And so it continued. As every second passed and she anticipated the tearing pain of the next blow she could not help but wish she would die right then, so the pain would end. The next time he stopped she nearly told him what he wanted to hear, out of sheer desperation. If the blows continued, with the pain intensifying she felt she would surely die. Then, by the grace of God, he stopped without saying another word to her. She had been thoroughly beaten in more ways than one.

As soon as she was alone in the room she struggled to rise from the bed. She gently removed her tattered clothes. She did her best to rinse clean the bloody welts on her back with a moistened cloth at the washbasin. She feared she did not do a very good job though; the area was just too tender for a good cleaning.

Sameer Mendak was responsible for all of this. She knew it was a sin to hate anyone, even Sameer Mendak, but she could not help thinking the worst of him. She could not understand what reasons he could have for trying to kill Louis. Had his plans changed since he gained possession of her? Would he try to use her to hurt Louis? She knew it was selfish to wish Louis would do anything to get her back, yet in some adolescent, romantic way she hoped he would. She would never stand for Louis doing anything to compromise France just for her safe return, but she also did not want to die or even worse be stuck in this Arabian nightmare forever.

Oh, how she needed Louis at that moment. She would have given anything to see him walk in the house and valiantly save her. She went to bed, gently lying down on her stomach, but quite certain she would not sleep a wink. Her back stung so she could think of nothing else, no matter relaxing enough to fall asleep.

After the unforgettable night of being tortured by a man of unscrupulous character, Elora was left alone in her room. She felt nearly forgotten, but as far as she was concerned the longer she did not have to see that atrocious man the better. She never despised a person so much in her life. She hated being powerless before him; not knowing what terrible things he might do at any moment.

To a certain extent Sameer was intriguing, but she feared the more she learned about him the more complex the world became. It was world she did not understand and certainly one she could never play a role in long-term. Life in the seventeenth century was not so cut and dry as one would think when reading about history. She had seen and lived the life of a privileged courtier. The intrigues of court could not compare to the jaded, dishonest, opportunistic, conniving populous who were not aristocracy.

She expected Sameer Mendak to come walking into her room as he had every day since she had been here, but he did not. In fact no one entered the room until well after noon the next day. One of the servants pushed a brass tray with a carafe of wine and a small loaf of bread through the door. The fire had gone out last night and she had no wood to replace it. The room had grown cold. The lamps were running out of oil and were not refilled.

Four days passed like this. One meal a day, no heat, minimal light after sunset, no fresh water to clean up. She wore her gown and wrapped herself in the blankets from the bed, just to keep warm. She spent her lonely hours playing cards and practicing ballet. She slept a lot, but never full nights. Haunting dreams plagued her unconscious. If it was not the nightmares waking her, it was the wounds on her back that still stung and throbbed like a third-degree burn every time she rolled over. This was captivity at its worst.

She prayed for something, anything to happen. Waiting for Sameer to show his face was torture, feeling nervous of how to proceed after the turn of unhappy events. Would he come to beat her again, knowing she was still unwilling to obey his commands? In her solitary confinement she was almost willing to go along with his orders just in utter fear of what he might do to her if she refused him. She felt a coward for thinking so, but she could not help that Sameer Mendak had successfully terrorized her.

Then one afternoon he came. Elora sat Indian-style on the floor, with a fur blanket tightly wrapped around her, busy playing at solitaire. She dealt the cards on the table, which was conveniently low to the floor. A slave announced him and she heard his heavy steps as he entered. She did not look up from her game, out of fear or defiance she could hardly tell.

She heard his step growing closer and saw him, through the corner of her eye, hovering above her. He seemed to be waiting for her to acknowledge his presence, but she would not. The only noise resounding in the room was the crisp flipping of the cards. She had to keep her hands busy shuffling the cards, afraid if she stopped for a moment he might see her trembling.

"I am waiting, Sameer Mendak," she said in a calm, monotone voice.

"For what exactly?" His voice was coarse and cross.

"For you to apologize."

There was silence again. All that could be heard was the flip…tap…tap…flip of the cards as she shuffled. Too much time had passed, which he remained taciturn. With a disappointed sigh, she put down the deck of cards on the table and stood, letting the blanket drop as she rose.

"I did not expect such a civility in the form of an apology," but she hoped for it. "Why are you here? What do you want?" He did not answer. "Well I doubt you are here out of any concern for my well being. Leaving me locked in here like an animal. No heat, no adequate food, no medical attention to my wounds. You're despicable."

"Have you finished?"

"I'll never be done telling you off, but say what you came here for."

"I have been wanting to see you." Sameer Mendak drew closer to her. She flinched, but stood her ground. His handsome face revolted her and she did not care if he saw it written all over her face. "You will never leave this house, Elora Roux. So you might as well adjust yourself to living here. You will see me often, so accustom yourself to that as well."

"Just because you intend for me to stay here permanently does not mean I will. I may have to see you, but that does not mean I will be amiable or even pleasant. We are no longer friends."

"I never sought your friendship," came his arrogant reply.

"But you had it all the same."

He winced. "Now it is gone?"

"I'd say so."

He huffed; perhaps she had upset him. She could not understand why. He had done this to her. Could he possibly feel some remorse for his actions? "Why could you not bend to my will that one time, Elora? I was angry, but I would have shown you mercy if you had only–"

"Given in?" Elora finished with malice. "Even if had known how harshly you were to punish me I still would have spoken with the same honest conviction. You crossed a line Sameer Mendak. You beat me for your ego's sake, not out of any justice you can devise.–You must promise me now that you will never hurt me again."

"What?" His surprise could not have been more pompous. She could not have blinked three times in silence before he said, "I will never again commit such a crime against your beautiful body again."

She smiled slightly for a moment, glad of some victory over him. "Good. Now I will not have to kill you today." She tossed a piece of broken glass into the fireplace. She had found it the day before yesterday under the bed. It was another broken piece of the glass that had shattered the night of her escape. She was so happy the servants had not found it first. She kept it by her side since for protection.

Sameer's eyes widened as he saw her discard the glass shard. "What?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't want to. The idea of killing you would have tortured me for the rest of my life, but I was fully prepared to do it if you had said you intended to hurt me again."

"I'm sure. You will join me for dinner," saying all of this in one breath.

"Since you've starved me for four days, how can I refuse? Will you allow me time to freshen up in the baths?"

He nodded with tolerable approval and he left almost immediately. One of the large male slaves who had tackled her the other night cautiously led her to the baths. Sameer was taking no chances. She knew her door was being watched throughout the day and night.

She bathed in her chemise because the baths were full with girls and their servants. She was given very fine clothes to wear, but made sure her gown and underclothes stayed with her this time. Today her outfit was even prettier. It was a daffodil yellow two-piece, with a golden trim sprinkled with yellow crystal beads.

She was taken to what she now knew was Sameer's chambers. She was not left alone in the room for more than a few seconds. It was not the room she had slipped into during her escape, but it was comparable in elegance.

Gold and green made up the room. The lush woven carpets covered the floors and plush upholstered furniture gave the room an inviting quality. The paneling was finely carved, latticework white marble. It seemed an entertainment room of sorts, apart from the dining table sitting to the right side. There was ample space for dancing and several large musical instruments lying about.

ooOoo

All through dinner Sameer could not take his eyes from his newly acquired jewel, Elora Roux. This woman had such audacity, as he had never seen in any of her sex. Every word spouting from her lips was discourteous, now that she was clear of whom he was.

They sat on the plush-cushioned stools before they were served dinner. He offered her a drink in a delicate porcelain glass. She looked at it, then smelt it, and politely refused. Again his attempts failed when he patronized her about being afraid to try new things.

"I'm not afraid of anything trifle, Sameer.–I just don't like it."

"How do you know if you have never tried it?"

"Did I say that I had never tried it? It's coffee, isn't it?"

His mouth dropped slightly and he nodded. Now he knew for a fact that no one in France had access to sample coffee, not even the king. So this girl had to be lying.

"Yeah, I never liked coffee much. This is the first time it's been offered to me since I've come to France. It must be a rarity here. Everybody at home drinks it. It just never appealed to me. Besides coffee has too much caffeine, it makes me jittery."

"How did a girl with no family lineage gain so much power at the French court?"

"I have a lineage as respectable as anyone at court," she said defensively. "It is just that they were rather obscure from society and lived very far away from here."

"In England?"

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No, in America. Why would you say that?"

"It is rumored you are an English informant. Judging by your speech when we were outdoors I am half inclined to believe it."

"I am French! Louis says no one has the authority to imagine anything else. I am to be the _Queen of France_; I do not have to explain anything to you. I think–"

He could hear no more about that. "Women were not created to think. They were created to pleasure a man and do his bidding."

"Why do men in this century find it necessary to patronize the entire population of the female sex, stereotyping half of the entire world's population into one category of being powerless and ignorant? And if they are so, then it is only the men who are to blame. Why do you say women should not think? What do you have against us? Do you fear women? Does the idea of a woman with free thought actually threaten you so much?" She took deep breath, appearing well fueled for a passionate tongue lashing. "And if we women _were not created to think_ then how is it we are perfectly capable of it. If God who created both men and women had intended for women not to think then I'm sure we would not be able to. It is not as if God could on his worst day be imperfect, so it can't be a mistake that I have a higher IQ than you."

His eyebrows lifted and he slowly nodded his head, now beginning to understand this creature. She was surely insane, for one so young. Yes, quite young. Her features were exceedingly fair and full of youthful beauty. Her eyes shined like the brightest night star, which only a woman well loved was adept enough to flaunt with grace.

"IQ?"

"Intelligence quotient; it's a numerical way of testing a person's intelligence."

"I have never heard of such, but how can you be certain your intelligence is higher than mine?"

"Because I have three-hundred and fifty years on you." He opened his mouth to question her, but she would not let him. "Never mind. What I want to know is why did you try to kill my fiancé? Did he hurt you in some way?" She glanced down at the emerald ring on her finger.

"Does your king hurt many people?" he asked. "Is that a quality you love him for?"

"When one has such a power and responsibility as kingship and a decision is made for the masses there will always be someone who will be hurt. I can't imagine anyone who truly knows Louis would ever wish him harm, no matter try to execute such a heinous act. Louis is the best man I know.–You never answered my question. What did Louis ever do to you?"

"Nothing you would comprehend.–Enough about your king!"

She banged her wine glass down on the table as she stood. "You're infuriating! I beg leave to retire for the evening."

He walked around the table to her. His arm extended toward her, but she swiftly shifted back. "Your beauty shines like the sunlit day," he spoke in a soft, lover's voice.

"Wow, real smooth," her words oozed with sarcasm. "You timed that perfectly. Tell me, do you use that line on all your concubines?"

His eyes widened, as his features grew angry. "Do you dare to mock me?"

She waved him away with annoyance. "Men like you neither fool nor impress me. You're a phony. You use sweet words and cheap tricks to get what you lust after." She turned from him, trying to shake him off. "Sorry, you're not getting me tonight, if that's the idea residing in that pea-brain of yours. Go slick your lust with one of your harem girls."

She had backed into the door, but he did not have to worry, it was locked. He approached her coolly; the nearer he inched the quicker were her respirations. Finally he was so close their faces were practically touching. As his arm went about her waist he pulled her away from the door, toward the center of the room. He had never met a girl who could refuse him, which made him want her all the more.

"No, Sameer, please don't do this to me."

"You behave as if you are a maid and I know you are not."

"You could not know such a thing. You don't even know me. I'm sure you think because I am betrothed to the king I have made love to him, but I have not."

"So you are claiming to be a maid?" He looked to her doubtfully.

"No, that is not my claim." She pulled free from his grasp. "_I was raped._"

Now Sameer did not expect her to say that. It was very possible such a declaration could be a lie. It was indeed a matter of interest either way. It very likely happened at the French court. If the king did such a deed why would she be so anxious to return to him? She insisted not; King Louis was no such person. "But you see why I can't let this happen again. Not here and now and certainly not with you."

"And you believe I would take you in such a way?" He circled around her.

"Why wouldn't I? You've done everything else against my will."

He did not speak, but went to the door and knocked on it. One guard entered. "Well perhaps," Sameer said to her, "this will show you how little you know me." He told the guard to return her safely to her room and that a fire may be lit for her that would never again burn out.

Never turning back to him, she said not a word as she walked out. Sameer sighed and sat alone in the room, pondering his decision. He left behind a seraglio of forty-eight when he came to France. Here he had two wives and ten concubines, completely devoted to him. He never had difficulty bedding a woman until Comtesse Elora Roux came along.

Elora had judged him correctly; returning her to her room untouched had not been his intention earlier this evening. He had planned to charm her with sweetness this night and have her yield to his passion, but he did not feel like fighting a woman to take his pleasure. He wanted her to coo with love and scream with delight when he took her. Her ecstasy would be his. He never made love to a woman who was already in love with another man and was not certain he wanted to. It was not only the love she bore for another, his behavior had not been so desirable either. Elora's trust was gone, but such could renew with time. She would trust him and then she would love him and then she would no longer have a wish to leave.

ooOoo

That next afternoon, while Elora was well into practicing ballet she heard a scratching at the door. Then she heard a masculine voice, speaking in French, through the locked door, telling her Lady Rasha was coming. Elora wished she knew more than a few minutes ahead of time that a social visit was upon her because the room was in such disarray. In an embarrassed panic, she scrambled around the room trying to put the furniture back to an agreeable arrangement. This was why her mother was always nagging her to keep things in order and keeping the bed made, just in case of unexpected company. Along with a lesson learned, she was completely out of breath when Lady Rasha actually entered the room.

Elora apologized for not having anything to offer her.

"I thought this might be the case. So I brought provisions." In came three servants with hands full of trays with food and drink.

When the servants had cleared out of the room Rasha drew closer to her on the sofa. "I was told about how you were beaten. I do wish you would have been spared."

"Me too."

"Please do not think me too presumptuous, but I must ask you something. I have heard you are familiar with the medicinal arts."

"Yes." Elora thought it a strange question and wondered how Rasha had come to hear about it. Rasha continues to ask many questions about midwifery and aiding in conception. After a little probing Elora found that she had been desperate, for the past three years, to get pregnant.

"I would think myself barren, but no other woman in my lord's harem has beget a child either."

"So Sameer Mendak is shooting blanks. A sterile polygamist; though that's not quite an oxymoron I think it would still put a smile on Shakespeare's face."

"Do you suspect it is my lord's deficiency? You must be wrong. Muna said he told her once he had a child of a slave woman when he was only fourteen, but his father was angry about it and had the child sent away a week after birth."

"Well if that is the case, then I will tell you what I know and perhaps it will help."

Elora explained signs signifying ovulation. She talked of making a calendar of her monthly flow and told her the time of the month she would most likely get pregnant. This is what Jenna, her older cousin, did faithfully and she was pregnant within two months of trying, or so she told the family at the baby shower. The problem was Rasha was not having routine sex with her husband. It was not in her power to choose a night and simply sleep with him. Sameer was the one who decided when she would be sent for.

"I do wish you luck, Rasha, but are you sure your husband wants a baby as well." He did not seem like the fatherly type.

"He would welcome a child." Rasha nodded with certainty. "I see your back took injury. Was it from my husband's hand?" Elora tipped her head and rolled her eyes up to met Rasha's gaze. She did not need to answer that. "You have never spoken ill of him. It does you credit."

"Complaining of my injuries from your husband might make me feel better, but I'm sure would hurt you."

"Why did you dare run? You must have known you would never succeed."

"I had to try. I can't stay here. My life is with Louis. I love Louis so much, if I were stuck here never able to see him again, knowing he might not be far away, I would go out of my mind." Elora began to cry. "Our afternoon walks, dancing after a bountiful dinner…I miss him so much…I'd give anything just to be with him again."

"I think I can be of help," Rasha encouraged in a soft voice.

"Really?" Elora's heart pounded with excitement.

"I only have one condition and you must vow by your god that you will never break it."

"Anything!"

"When you leave here and are with your king again you must vow never to mention anything of Sameer Mendak. You will never breathe a word about this house, those you have met here, or the conditions of your stay."

"You mean let Sameer get off scot-free after everything he's done to me? After he nearly beat me to death?"

"Yes. I will accept nothing less. Not one word, not one clue to incriminate my husband or this household."

Elora took a deep breath and resigned herself. "All right. I vow silence if you can get me free from this place."

**Dear Readers, **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter of The Celestial City. I enjoy this chapter on so many levels. Hassan is no more and Sameer is in the building to stay. The more I write about Sameer the more complex he becomes. He is definitely the bad guy, but I find myself always sympathizing for him and searching for something redeemable. Is he a good man who does bad things or is he a bad man who sometimes does good things; I'm sure Sameer doesn't even know. ;) **

**I really appreciate feedback so please review and let me know what you think! I love hearing from you, it's nice to know you're out there. **

**L.B. Tempia**


	32. Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

Sameer was anxious since last night about his entrancing captive. He did not laze about his chamber, but was in fact quite busy with his business affairs, yet he still could not shake her from his thoughts. He was resolute that Elora would be the only woman he would take up company with until she surrendered to him.

They were to have dinner in his private dining hall attached to his chambers. He had the room filled with tropical vegetation, which he had brought with him from his homeland. The long, wide windows, facing full east, proved to make the plants flourish in this room.

Elora Roux was guided to this room, where he was already waiting. Her manner was civil, but by no means complacent. Looking through the glass, up at the sky, it seemed every star in the heavens was out for them to see. The full moon gave off a robust, goldenrod color. He had set a beautiful scene for her, with Mother Nature's help, but she still did not seem pleased.

During dinner, he could not help complimenting Elora on her enticing attire. Her multi-layered, ruby-red and black gauze outfit flowed delicately as she walked in the room. The deep-red garnet earrings dangled and glimmered in the candlelight. Even her hair was let down with ornaments of thin gold flowers and silver leaves braided into her curls. He complimented her beauty, but she seemed to care not for his thoughtful words. Whether she believed him to be insincere or had no interest in his opinion of her, he could not determine.

"Elora, tell me what you are thinking. I am interested to know."

She raised an irritated brow. "I thought you believed _women should not think_."

"I do not deny this." He leaned back in the chair. "You are not like the women I have known though."

"I should hope not.–I was thinking about the future."

"Your future here?"

"No."

"So, your future back with your king?"

"No. Just what I could be doing now if I had never left home in America. What are you thinking?"

"Well," He could no longer contain himself and spilled out his news to her. "In less than a fortnight my entire household will travel by ship back to my homeland. I do hope this pleases you."

"That's perfect," she took hold of both of his hands with great excitement, perhaps more than he had expected. "Now you can return me to my Louis," she said triumphantly, finishing off her goblet of wine. She stood, as if she were simply going to walk out the door and return to her palace.

"No, you do not understand.–I mean to take you with me."

"What?" Elora coughed. "No, you cannot do that. I can't leave France; this is my home now. My life is here…with Louis."

His temper flared for a moment, "Your life is with me!" He calmed himself, smugly certain once they were out to sea she would better accept him. "I never misled you to think you might be ransomed home, Elora. I said you were to stay with me. We will travel by ship and when we reach my homeland we will be married." Sameer kissed her hand, more out of conceit than affection.

"Be a third wife in a house of slaves? No way!–Sameer, I was sent to France by God for a reason. That reason is to be with Louis. I know it is."

"How do you know it was not to be with me?" he reasoned.

"I don't really know for sure. God is the only one who really does know. But the first person I met here was Louis; that has to mean something. I know I'm meant to be with him. I feel it in my heart. Louis needs me and I need him."

"I am sorry you are unhappy with my plans, but you will have to accept them in time. You will learn to love _me_ as you love the king."

She appeared to be contemplating his declaration with civility for a minute. She then looked up at him with a steady eye. "There seems to be no point in arguing with you." She sighed with definite capitulation. "I wish you could have stayed Hassan."

"Because he was a eunuch?"

"No, because I believed him a good man."

"But I am still he and more."

"Yes it's the _more_ that beat me and causes me to lie awake sleepless nights."

He nodded and adjusted his robe, for it was feeling tight. Her honesty could tear "You must hate me."

"I do not hate you, Sameer."

"You would not think so ill of me if you knew, if you only knew the truth."

"You've had enough chances to tell me the truth. What is the truth?"

"When we are at sea I will reveal all and I promise you there is justification to my madness."

"I suppose I can tolerate your company well enough.–Yes, I will sail with you to your home country." She tipped her head and a smile appeared. "I have always wanted to travel and explore different cultures in the world."

He said everything to assure her of how happy she would be there. She would love his country. She would live just as gloriously as a queen.

"Elora, give me your hand." She did so hesitantly and he took hold of it in a gentle manner. There was no defiance from her as he pulled the emerald betrothal ring from her finger and let it fall to the floor. He then took a large jade ring off his own finger and slid it onto hers. The emperor had given him this ring as a gift prior to journeying to France. She did not know how great an honor such a ring was.

"This is a symbol of my love for you and my promise to take you for my wife."

She smiled, thanking him for the ring with a sincere voice.

"Now, shall we toast to our engagement, Elora?" He looked into her empty goblet, having recalled she had already finished hers. His was nearly empty as well. Elora acknowledged that both needed filling, so she rose from her seat, taking the goblets to the small table where the carafe was. He watched her delicate poise as she filled the cobalt goblets and returned to the table.

"A toast to our betrothal and our betrothal night." He eyed her with a cocky smile, unable to conceal his desire.

She held up her glass to his. "To our future," cheered she, "may love always be our guide."

They clinked glasses and drank. After finishing with dinner, exhaustion fell upon him. "Elora, it has been a long and quite eventful day for me," Sameer yawned his words.

"You know, I am feeling a little sleepy myself. May I join you?" she added sweetly.

He had not expected such a submission so soon. If this was her way of letting him know she had reconciled herself to him he was pleased. He gallantly led her from the dining room, through the double doors, to his bedchamber.

They both lied down on his bed. He faced her and rested his arm on her waist. "Sameer, if you would like to kiss me you may," she spoke as if she were reading his mind. He smiled, pulled her close to him, and kissed her the way he had been longing to since he first saw her. He fell asleep shortly after, while in the warmth and comfort of her arms.

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Elora remained in Sameer's arms until she heard him lightly snoring. She rose from the bed and went searching for the ring Sameer had carelessly thrown to the floor. She found it under the marble dining table. Still on her hands and knees, in the dim room, she removed Sameer's ring and put Louis' back on with a kiss to the stone.

She placed the jade ring on his bedside table as she looked upon the sleeping ass, who tried to ruin her life. Sameer did not comprehend whom he was up against. He would not be waking anytime soon. Today, Rasha had given to her a powerful sleeping draught in a small, cylindrical glass vile. Elora had slipped the liquid into Sameer's drink when she refilled the glasses. When he said they would be leaving the country in a few days she knew her immediate escape was imperative. She had to make her escape tonight; it might be her only chance.

Though she better understood Sameer now, seeing he was not so much a villain as she originally thought, she still despised being in his company. If they had met under different circumstances she would think him a fascinating, entertaining acquaintance. Unfortunately, that was not the case for Sameer and she. He was her kidnapper, a threatening presence, a looming reminder of her tragic circumstances. She wanted to like him, but because of all of this she knew she never could.

Time was of the essence, so she was certain to make the most of it. She did not like the idea of having to escape in the night, without a source of light to bring with her, but she especially dreaded that she would be running, for she knew not how far, in the bitter night, wearing very unsuitable attire. She desperately went through Sameer's trunks until she found a velvet cloak. She did not want to leave in the harem clothes, but going back to her room to get her dress was not an option.

She knew there was a guard on duty walking about the perimeters of the grounds twenty-four hours a day. She had often seen them through her window quite grimly patrolling around and never taking routes at repetitive times. Rasha had warned her there were also dogs, which were let loose in the gardens at night. Elora had no idea how she would sneak by them unnoticed; she was no escape artist. She looked through the window, past the stone veranda. The ten-foot high walls seemed a mile away.

She worked on opening the window bit by bit, so no creaks or squeaks would be heard by anyone indoors or out. When she was confident she has opened it enough she looked at Sameer for the last time. "_Adieu_, Sameer Mendak," she said as she slipped out the window into the garden.

She ran to the walls as fast as she could, but the cape she wore caught the wind and it was slowing her down. When she heard the dogs barking, she forgot the shock of how cold the air was. Their sound from behind became louder the nearer she got to the wall.

She climbed up a tree by the stone wall to get to the other side. As soon as she was a few feet up in the tree the dogs caught up with her. They howled at the base of the tree, jumping up trying to reach her. She climbed high enough in the tree so she was able to prop herself up onto the top of the wall.

She looked, but did not see any of the guards coming her way. She wasted not a moment and jumped down, falling to her knees onto the frozen ground. She banged her left knee pretty bad, but she had no time to assess for injury. She was not sure if the guards had seen her, but they must have known someone was there. She picked up her skirts and began running again. The pain tore through her knee for a minute or so, before it matured into a slight ache.

She looked at her surroundings; yet saw nothing but fields and trees. She was not even certain she was running toward civilization. Louis and Versailles could be nearby, but she doubted it. She knew she had to get away from Sameer, but she really did not think it all through.

The night was dark, the air chilly, and the silence deafening. The moon was well masked in the black sky, like seeing candlelight in the distance through a fogged up window. The only sound to be heard was that of her cloth-slipper laden feet hitting the frozen ground as she ran. What she would not do now for her running sneakers! Every few minutes she looked back to see if there was anyone following her, but each time she saw no one. Still, she kept to the side of the road, so as not to be a target spotted from a distance.

After guessing she was about three miles from Sameer Mendak's villa, she finally slowed her pace to a walk. The winding, dirt road was devoid of traffic. She saw plenty of livestock and even some small woodland creatures, but not one person. There were a few smaller roads she passed, but they seemed more overgrown and less traveled, so she decided it was best to continue on the main road.

Gradually before her, came into view a high stone wall, enclosing a large village. Lights shined from the windows. It was a city! Now she could not help herself, she began to run again. Salvation was near!

She ran to the first house she came upon. It was not a house though; she saw a sign hanging above the door, _Les Potier_. Whether it was an inn, tavern, or even a brothel she did not care; she was going in. She pulled up her velvet hood to conceal her face as much possible and pushed open the rotting door.

It was a tavern, with over a dozen people occupying it, all sitting around drinking grog and ale. The bearded bartender behind the counter was wiping some cups and a rotund woman was scrubbing the floor. It seemed every person in the tavern noticed her as soon as she stepped through the door. The men at the tables quieted, looking at her, the potential fresh meat. The woman stood up, smoothed back her frizzy, brown hair, and bobbed a curtsy. Elora made a small curtsy in return. "_Bonsoir_," Elora greeted gently.

"_Bienvenue," _came the husky voice of the woman._ "Etes-vous perdu?"_

Elora nearly laughed at the woman's question: _Was she lost_? In more ways than one, but she would not say so.

The woman introduced herself as Madame Mindy Potier and her husband behind the counter was Frédéric.

"Madame, I would be greatly indebted to you if you would please tell me what town I am in at this moment."

The whole tavern fell into an uproar, as if she just asked for a steak at a vegan restaurant. Amongst the men spilling their drinks and falling from their chairs in laughter, Madame Potier said, "Why, you are in Paris."

Elora was nothing but shocked. She fell back onto a stool and sat down on it with a thump. Her hood fell back off her head, but she did not care so much now.

"Well then, I am glad to hear it. Would it be in your power to direct me to the king's guardhouse or the local magistrate, Madame?"

"I would not recommend such a venture at this time of night, milady. There's one of those chaps who passes by the _taverne_ here every few hours. My husband will catch him the next time he passes." She guided Elora toward the fire, pushing through many men who were just as raggedy as Bailey and Aubrey had been. It was decided she was to warm up and wait there until a guard came.

Then the questions were thrown at her. Where did she come from? Where was she headed? Why was she out in this part of town in the night without a chaperone? Why did she need a guard? How did she not know she was in Paris? She would answer none of those questions though. And really, it was none of the woman's business. This woman seemed nice and good, but who could really tell? So she would do her best to turn the interrogation around.

Elora asked about the _taverne_; how long it had been open, was it a family business that had been passed down to them? Madame could not resist such conversation. She seemed like she was in want for female companionship in this den of men.

She began with her marriage to Monsieur Frédéric Potier. They had three children, but two had already been taken to heaven. She spoke of her husband's love of his trade. She mentioned something about the king and taxes and stopped her words in midsentence. "Ah, but perhaps I should not complain. I am certain you are acquainted with his majesty."

Elora laughed. "Why would you assume I know the king?"

"You are certainly a lady and judging by those baubles on your ears I ascertain you are a lady of society and wealth."

"How do you know I am not a thief wearing my spoils?" Elora shifted in her seat.

"Do not try to fool me. It is in your bearing, milady."

"The king will be pleased to hear your opinion, I think."

Madame smiled, contented she had been correct.

"Mindy," said Frédéric, peeping through the window to the outside, "Here comes the guard."

"Well run out and get him! Are you daft?" she hollered.

The tubby husband went running out the door. Elora could not conceal a small giggle. She heard Monsieur Potier talking with the guard, saying he had to come in, a lady wanted him. The guard thought he was just joking with him, but finally gave in and entered the _taverne_. Elora stood and held her head high, about to reveal herself to him. No one would ever know how glad she was to see that royal blue tabard with the cross over the heart. Seeing one of D'Artagnan's musketeers confirmed that she was now out of the hands of those who could hurt her.

When the guard faced her, his eyes bulged for a moment, then he instantly went down on a knee. "My God! _Comtesse Elora, _my lady! Is it truly you or do my eyes deceive me?"

"Yes, it's me. Please rise, good sir."

"Justin d'Marquis at your service, my lady."

"You are the king's betrothed?" asked Mindy Potier. Her jaw would have dropped to the floor if it could fall any lower.

"Yes, I am. My name is Elora Roux," she said with a smile.

"_Votre majesty_, you honor our establishment with your presence."

Everyone in the tavern began to bow. She was somewhat embarrassed, for she still did not feel she deserved such an acknowledgment. "I am not the queen yet, but thank you for the honor."

Right now she could be telling that guard about Sameer Mendak and showing him where his house was, but she could not bring herself to do it. He deserved to be turned in, but her promise to Rasha was genuine. She feared, if she did turn him in, what kind of barbaric, seventeenth-century justice Louis might inflict upon him. She had seen the conditions of the dungeons first hand and had heard of the various tortures inflicted on the prisoners.

Elora shook Madame Mindy Poitier's hand and left in it the garnet earrings she had been wearing. They tried to thank her, but she insisted it was she who was in their debt. She pulled her hood back up as she left the _taverne_, with the guard by her side.

The guard had her arm with one hand and his sword with the other. He was going to bring her to his guardhouse where his lieutenant lived. He asked her not speak until then, for the streets were not safe. He made it seem as if it were a long way there. She was a bit worried because her knee was still hurting with every step taken, though she would say nothing. It turned out to be no great distance at all. They soon came to high standing iron gates, which enclosed a red brick building. It certainly looked like a police station, with its noble architecture and controlling atmosphere.

As they went through the gates, down the walk, and into the building every guard they passed made a bow. It was almost as if they recognized her, but none of their faces looked familiar.

Elora was introduced to Lieutenant Andre, who had a moment before recognizing her, had been smoking his pipe and reading, with his feet up, behind his messy desk. Now the pipe was on the floor and the lieutenant was rushing to her side. He sent for d'Artagnan who was also in Paris searching for her. She would welcome his face when he came.

The question she was dreading was asked and it did not end with that. Lieutenant Andre wanted to know what happened and every particular included. Descriptions of the men, stations, distances traveled, what direction she had come from, any motives or schemes she might have overheard were all brought up by him, in an anxious fashion, but she did not open her mouth once.

She interrupted his interrogation and asked if there was a woman in the house that she could have the company of, even though it was quite late at night. His wife, Madame Andre, was fetched immediately. The woman rushed down the stairs with a thump. She appeared in her mid-forties and was in her night-garments no less. The lady was overly friendly, obviously feeling the pressure of her duties from her husband.

Elora was apologetic for waking her, but insisted on inconveniencing her further requesting a change of clothes. She had to get out of her incriminatingly ethnic outfit before d'Artagnan saw her. It would not be difficult to deduce by her garments where she had been living of late.

Madame Andre was only too glad to be of assistance. She brought her to her chambers upstairs and donated her best dress. Elora was quick when the lady was out of the room to toss her harem garments into the fire. She had to destroy them, before they betrayed her secret. The fabric was quick to burn and was soon only a memory. She hurried to unbraid her hair and dispose of the metal hair accessories as well.

"Where is she?" Elora heard d'Artagnan's booming voice from below stairs. She ran from the room and down the stairs, practically jumping into his arms. "I doubted I would ever see you again, Elora!"

"I had a few moments where I thought the same, but I escaped my captors."

"So you were kidnapped. Why have you not spoken to my lieutenant? He is most anxious to be of service."

"I cannot. It was a term I promised."

"Your captor pressured such a promise and then let you free?" His brow furrowed.

"No, not exactly.–Is Louis here in Paris?"

"No, he remains at Versailles Chateau."

"Is he all right? How has he been all these weeks?"

"His health is impeccable, but I cannot say the same for his spirits."

"d'Artagnan, can we go home now?"

"You should sleep." He patted her back. "It is well past three in the morning. The return journey to Versailles will take several hours."

"d'Artagnan, I wish to go immediately. I cannot rest until I see Louis."

Lieutenant Andre attempted to argue the same facts with her, but d'Artagnan stopped him. "If the Comtesse de Valréas has made up her mind then I know there is nothing left to do but send the order for the horses to be saddled."

Lieutenant Andre corrected him, stating that a carriage would be arranged for her. He worried about her delicacy. He did not want her riding a steed, at full pace, for so long. She could fall from the beast and become injured. She was to be the Queen of France. Her safety was very important to the king. He could not live with himself if there were an accident.

Elora was impressed with the depth of the lieutenant's concern for her, but she would not be treated like a delicate piece of glass that must not be shattered. She insisted she would be riding horseback alongside d'Artagnan. Her last couple of carriage rides had not been so pleasant and she did not particularly desire to step back in a cursed carriage.

She had warmed up well by the fire and had been given a second cloak to wear. By the time the horses were assembled and a group of soldiers to travel as her guides were called in it was nearly sunrise. It took yet more time when she got outside to find her horse was saddled with a sidesaddle and they had to change out the saddle.

Her horse was a fine animal, all white with a golden mane, given the name of Malcolm. There was a guard waiting to boost her up. She thanked him and mounted herself onto the horse without his assistance. Though in retrospect, she really should have accepted. Her knee was aching so badly and when she put all her weight on that left leg to draw herself up to the horse she had to suppress a scream. She should have iced it already, but it was too late for that now. Besides if she had told d'Artagnan about her knee then he surely would have had a physician sent for and she would be away from Louis that much longer. She only hoped she had not fractured her limb when she fell.

Finally, they were on their way to Versailles and Elora could not be more elated. It would be a good day to travel, but the wind was bitter. She rode in the middle of a party of twenty soldiers, but it was more like a parade. This caravan will not be very discreet when leaving Paris and entering Versailles. d'Artagnan assured her it was for her safety. She would not oppose that decision, especially when she entertained the thought that Sameer might come after her when he woke.

The guards seemed to be asking her every fifteen minutes if she needed to take a rest, but she refused every time. She reasoned the more time they wasted taking rests, the more time she would be away from Louis.

"Elora," d'Artagnan began with a deep, patient breath, drawing his horse closer beside hers. "I know you have said that you will not speak of your abduction. I hope you understand I must press you further. It is crucial you reveal all you can about the scoundrels that took you. You are safe with me now. You need not fear them."

"I am sorry, but I absolutely cannot be of help to you. I made a promise."

"Such a promise means nothing while you were under duress. Do you not see that these were the men whose original intent was to murder the king and prince? These rebels will only make another attempt. You were all lucky to keep your lives this time, but the next time they strike you may not be."

"The people who actually had me were quite obviously not the ringleaders. The two men who raided the carriage and took me were nothing more than money-hungry, peasant thieves. The man who held me captive, well I never quite knew who he actually was, but I have it on good authority he was planning on fleeing soon. He will be out of the country, never to return or bother us again."

"Such is interesting to hear, Elora, but the fact remains we need someone to interrogate in order to find the puppeteer; for he is the most dangerous of them all. This will not end until we find him and put him to justice."

They rode for over three hours, until finally the walls of Versailles came into sight. Her relief presented itself in a great sigh. She would finally be able to relax because she knew Louis would take care of her.

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The weeks had been torture without Elora, seeing her only briefly at Chartres, only to lose her again. Colbert had been pushing him to fulfill all of his duties. Not only was he needed for meetings for matters of state, but Colbert was insisting he hold court as well. Sitting through dancing and music and celebrations all while Elora was Lord knew where, in what sort of conditions, being exposed to the vilest of things. No! He could not bear it!

Louis heard a knock at his council room door and he roared, "I said I was not to be disturbed!"

The door began to open nonetheless. Louis shot up from his chair with fury, to see who the person was who dared to go against the king's command. He felt a flutter of his heart the moment he laid eyes on Elora. He must be dreaming. If God had given her back to him he vowed never to lose her again.

Louis bounded to her and pulled her into his embrace. "Elora, are you truly here? You are not dead?"

"Shut up and kiss me, Louis!" She pulled his head down to hers. Her breath was sweet and her kisses made him light-headed. Her cheeks, nose, even her hands were chilled. She must have been out of doors for some time.

"You are so cold, my love." He scooped her up and carried her over to the divan by the fire, seating himself beside her. He kissed his darling Elora held her tightly to his breast. "And your cheeks are so flush. Oh my dearest love, what tribulations have you suffered?"

"I've been traveling on horseback from Paris with Captain d'Artagnan since early this morning. I prayed every day during my captivity I would see you again."

"Elora, this was entirely my fault. Two guards were not nearly enough to protect such precious cargo. I am sorry I neglected you and thus caused this to happen. I never considered you would be a target for kidnappers. This all could have been prevented if I had not been so officious."

"Louis, please do not blame yourself. You couldn't have prevented this. Sometimes horrible things happen for a reason."

Just then the prince was announced. Philippe entered a moment later staring into a large book he carried. When he finally looked up he jumped back at the sight of her, and dropped the book with a strident thump. He remained stationary, staring at Elora, nothing but shock painted on his face. "Elora, you are alive…is that not wonderful."

"Philippe, will you not come over and greet your sister?" demanded Louis.

When Elora stood Philippe continued his approach and briefly kissed her hand.

"It is good to see you, Philippe.–Sit with us." Philippe sat down awkwardly at the far end of the divan beside Louis, practically sitting on a pillow instead of the cushion.

"When I arrived from Paris to find you missing, I nearly collapsed with grief. Colbert and even my dear brother have helped with the burdens of my crown since. Where exactly were you? Do you know who did this? Who retrieved you? How is it you came home without first sending word?" Louis questioned without stopping for breath.

"I can reveal only vague details." She explained a promise she made to some nameless individual only a few days ago. "After leaving Chartres the carriage was raided, I picked up a gun, but in the chaos and considering my inexperience with such a weapon, I was quickly overpowered. I was taken and kept locked away in a small room for several days. Then I was transferred to another house where I remained until I escaped last night. The surroundings were intolerable and most of the company was horrid. When I escaped I found some people who helped me find a guard, who led me to Lieutenant Andre, who fetched d'Artagnan, who guided me home to you!" That was all she would say. She would not answer a single question either he or Philippe asked.

"Elora, you are wrong in keeping this from me. This man could lead us to who has been making these attacks upon the crown."

"Brother," interjected Philippe. "There is no use pushing such a matter upon her. If she will not tell she will not. There must be good reason behind it. Elora would never wish harm to befall us."

"Thank you, Phillipe." Elora reached over Louis to pat Philippe's hand. "Louis, I'm sure you have other clues to lead you to this culprit, but his blood will not be on my hands.–I am really beginning to feel exhausted. I think I must go find my bed."

Of course she was exhausted, again he despised himself for not sensing it first. After all, she had not had any sleep since the night before last. Louis guided Elora, with one arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her. He left his brother still sitting in his room. Philippe could not have been more unhelpful in endeavoring to convince Elora to reveal what she knew. Though likely nothing could have convinced her. The secrets she kept in that beautiful head were infinite and she guarded them well.

Louis suggested she bathe to wash the road off, but she only wanted to curl up in bed. He began to leave as she fell asleep, but she opened her eyes in panic. "No Louis, don't leave me alone! Stay with me awhile. I need you beside me."

He lied down beside her. "If that is your wish, my love, then it is mine." He did not sleep as she did, but spent the hours in prayer, praising God for bringing her home.

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Elora woke with Louis still by her side. She had only slept about four hours, but felt it was enough. She would likely go to bed early tonight to make up the difference.

Louis asked about the clothes she wore, for they were of an inferior fabric and did not fit her well. She rolled her eyes as she crawled out of bed after him. "Oh Louis, I missed you!" Where would she be if she did not have Louis to tell her what looked fashionable or not. "I got it from the wife of the lieutenant of your guard. I needed something appropriate to travel in."

"What of your things?"

"Well, the sapphire necklace you gave me was stolen pretty quick. My gown, unavoidably, got left behind. I was lucky to escape with my engagement ring. I even had a few close calls with that." She would change the subject before more questions arose. "I think I'm ready to take that bath now."

"The servants are preparing the water and wait upon you now."

"Well then, for heaven sake, let them come in," Elora laughed. "It takes long enough to fill up that tub."

From the hallway they could hear Colbert thundering, "Well I demand to see him!"

Elora tipped her head at Louis and he sighed, both knowing what was soon to come. Louis excused himself to go deal with his duties, before Colbert broke down the door. As he left, Elora saw two of Louis' best guards at the doorway. She hoped they would not be following her around everywhere all the time now.

Suzanne entered with more excitement than Elora expected. They hugged and chatted about this and that. Suzanne had been the one to inform Colbert that Elora had not arrived at Versailles when expected. "I never should have gone ahead. If I would have gone in your carriage, perhaps I would have been with you through your trials."

"Or they could have shot you in the carriage, like they nearly did to me. No, as I said to Louis, it was better it was just me. Louis and Philippe certainly would have been killed and I nearly was. It was bad enough three men were murdered by those idiots."

"Yes I heard about the death of the guards, but was slightly relieved when I heard you were not one of the casualties."

Several servant girls came in carrying buckets of heated water and poured them in the bathtub Suzanne had arranged. When the bath was to Suzanne's persnickety specifications, Elora was allowed in. It would be grand, but nothing compared to the luxurious baths at Sameer's house.

Suzanne was telling Elora about several visitors who had called on her while she was sleeping. The Morlaix family had returned to Versailles and hoped to see her today. She decided to go in search of them after her bath. As Elora striped her clothes Suzanne caught a glimpse of her back. She began with hysterics, not expecting to see something so horrific. Elora calmed her and begged her not to say anything. Certain things needed to be left untold about her captivity and this would only raise more questions.

She excused Suzanne so she could fully bathe and dress. She looked through her trunk to choose the perfect outfit for her homecoming. She originally had in her mind to wear purple, but a new gown presented itself at the top of the pile. _Now, when did this one sneak in here_, she wondered. It was an ice-blue velvet gown with thin, silver, vertical stripes and the underskirt was sterling gray. The collar was plush, white rabbit fur. She was certain she would keep quite warm in this gown.

After dressing she left her room in search of Chris and Therese. As she casually walked down the halls of Versailles, she reflected on how well it was to be home. She had been gone for some time, but still, things looked the same. She really loved the fact that she had come to think of this lovely place as _home_.

It was well over a month ago when she left Versailles. How long ago that really felt. She had been so unhappy and heart-broken. It seemed like nothing now. Having everything taken from her and living in fear that every moment could, very truly, be her last, she believed had ushered her into adulthood. Being killed would not have been pleasant, but even worse was the prospect of becoming a third wife in a foreign country. The world was a much larger place after being kidnapped.

Either her mind was out in space or someone was purposely trying to startle her, when an assailant behind her grabbed her arm. She was about to whip around and punch him when she saw it was Philippe. They stood in Hall of Mirrors, with many courtiers passing them by. "I have been calling your name, why did you not answer?–What is this I hear about injuries you have sustained? I saw you this morning and you appeared slightly road weary, but all the same well."

She shook herself free from his concerned grasp. "How is it you have come to know about this?"

"I was meeting with the king when your servant produced a bloodied shift." Courtiers around them had begun to stare and she hushed Philippe.

"Oh no," Elora buried her face in her hands. "She didn't!" Suzanne had never actually promised, but she did assure her she would not say anything. Elora was disappointed in her, yet she understood why she snitched.

d'Artagnan found her not seconds later. He seemed as anxious as if she were still kidnapped. "Elora, you must come with me this very minute."

"Of course." She excused herself with a sigh, but Philippe followed behind her anyway.

Louis was awaiting her in his chambers and Doctor Dubuque was there as well. d'Artagnan left the room as soon as she was delivered. Philippe entered without invitation, but Louis looked too upset to even notice his brother's presence.

"Your maidservant brought this to my attention." Louis held up the chemise Elora had worn yesterday. A few of the cuts on her back must have seeped, for there was some lines of dried bloody drainage on the white cloth. "What else are you hiding from us all, for from this I can surely guess?"

"Isn't the important thing that I escaped and made it home to you? I wanted to spare you the gory details."

"Tell me!" both Louis and Philippe both demanded at the same time.

"Fine!–He thrashed my back with a wooden switch. It's nothing now. It happened a week ago."

"He did what? You do not deserve this. What a barbarian! If you still would have had access to the pistol in my satchel…"

"It's too bad I didn't. If I could have hidden it until I got there it may have aided in my escape."

"How did you escape the chateau without it?" Philippe questioned.

"Through God's good grace in sending me an angel."

"Show me," insisted the doctor, as he began to put his spectacles over his eyes.

She turned to Louis to unlace her gown. She did not wear a chemise today for the sole reason that the lacy collar was rubbing and irritating her back. So now they could all see the injury and hopefully would have no more questions.

"Oh Elora!" Louis cried with an audible gasp. Philippe's reaction was similar.

"I am sorry, Louis." She turned to face him. "The only reason I did not tell you was because I knew it would upset you."

"No reason could be so great as to assault France's future queen in such a manner," Louis stated this as if he were disgusted with the world.

"He did it because I tried to escape and I humiliated him and I would not bow to his authority. So he just hung me from a tree and beat me till I could no longer curse him."

Louis' eyes bulged with fury as if here were about to order, "_Off with your head_!" to whoever was responsible for her injury. Doctor Dubuque cut him off before he had a chance, "Some of these cuts appear putrid, my lady."

"You will see to it immediately," reaffirmed Louis.

From the look in Louis' eyes she could establish he was devising some plan of revenge. Sameer would certainly be put to death if Louis knew of to extent of his behavior. She moved to rest in Louis' embrace. "My love, please let this go. I am safe. I have nothing to fear from those men any longer."

"I will persist with or without your cooperation, Elora. The attempts on my life and yours cannot be ignored. I love you too much to risk your life. I know where you were first located in Paris. It will only be time before I find the culprits."

"Then you really do not need my cooperation after all." She backed away from him stubbornly. "I cannot be responsible for the justice the crown will take."

Louis seemed more irate than he had ever been with her, but he was calm when he spoke, "I will leave you now. Let Doctor Dubuque tend to you." Louis tapped Philippe's shoulder and exited with him.

She hated the way she handled that. Louis did not deserve any of this. The pressure to keep Sameer a secret was becoming too much to bear. She promised Rasha faithfully, but at what cost would she keep it. Louis was right, the ringleader was still out there and he would no doubt try again, with or without Sameer's participation.

Elora figured since the good doctor already knew about her back it was a good time to show him her knee too. Perhaps he had some balm or pain-killers. Doctor Dubuque assessed left knee and did not believe it to be broken. He did not have any balm with him, but assured her he would have his apothecary make some up and it would be sent to her directly.

She went back to her room with strict instructions in how to care for the wounds. Suzanne would have to apply the ointment to her back, but the doctor was hopeful it should be healed within a week. She had no energy to go to dinner, so a tray of delicacies was brought for her. She went to bed early, without seeing Louis again. Being home was proving to be just as much a strain as being kidnapped.

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Elora woke abruptly from a dream and nearly rolled off the bed. Had she only dreamt it, no, it had all happened. "Oh dear God! I know who the ringleader is!"

**Dear Readers, **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter of The Celestial City. I know you've waited so long for it and I apologize. The escape from Sameer and reunion with Louis both have been greatly anticipated by all of you I'm sure. I tried to make it exciting. I know the last sentence is a real tease, but I'll try to get you Chapter 33 in a few weeks. Good luck guessing the culprit. The unraveling is going to be fun!**

**I really appreciate feedback so please review and let me know what you think! I love hearing from you, it's nice to know you're out there. **

**L.B. Tempia**


	33. Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

Louis had gone to speak with Elora in the evening after dinner, but she was already asleep. Recalling the last time he woke her in the night he feared her less than pleased reaction. Though he was tired, he felt compelled to stay with her. He loved her so dearly and could not wait until they were wed. He had been waiting so long, longer than a king should have to wait, for the night when they would consummate their love. Tonight of course was not that night, but he felt certain she would have no qualms to him spending the night beside her in bed.

He woke with such a start early in the morning when Elora began talking in her sleep. Though he did not hear what she said she sounded upset. When he opened his eyes she was sitting up in the bed, appearing quite distressed.

"Elora, did you have one of your night terrors again?"

"Oh, Louis, I didn't know you were here. That was sweet of you.-Yes I was having a bad dream." She got out of bed in a hurry. It was still early in the day; the servants had not even been in to refill the fireplace, so the room was chilled.

"Elora, come back to bed. There is no rush to start the day."

She looked back at him as she stood on one foot putting a slipper on the other. "Louis, I simply have to be somewhere right now."

"At this time?"

"Yes, please don't ask me about it. I will return soon."

Elora proceeded to run out of the room as he yelled, "Elora, put on your robe before venturing out into the halls," but she did not hear him and she was gone. He could not imagine what was going through her mind or where she was rushing off to. She was about to become queen and she still refused to comply with the rules of modesty.

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Philippe sat in his chambers reading letters as he leisurely picked at his breakfast. The morning was dark and cold. The snow had been falling since last night and in what had begun as a light dusting, after hours of perseverance, became quite a profundity of snow.

He was jilted from his perusing when someone suddenly pushed the door open without even a knock. He turned to look when the door slammed against the wall. Elora Roux stood in the doorway, looking as if she had no intention of coming in. She appeared quite out of breath. She must have run from her chamber to here in her nightshift. She glared at him with angry eyes. He wondered what she wanted, but from her icy gaze he knew the truth. _Fair's foul and foul's fair._

"Why do you come upon me this way?" he asked, trying to feign innocence.

He walked over to her and was about shake her hand when she slapped his cheek so vehemently he thought his jaw dislocated.

Oh, she most definitely knew, but how? He had been so careful. There was no reason for her to trace it back to him. She had no proof. The peasants who took her did not know of him and Sameer Mendak had left the country. Most importantly, who else knew? If he could only convince Elora to hold her tongue, he might survive the day. If Louis heard such news it would be disastrous. She was a woman though and he never knew any woman who could keep a secret.

"It was you," her grim accusation came in a voice so softly. Her eyes filled with tears, which had not yet spilled over.

"Elora, I…"

"No! You will not speak! I will say what I have to first." She kicked the door closed behind her. Even though she was angry she still looked ravishing. A natural color had risen in her cheeks and her hair bounced as she tossed her head. He rubbed his own cheek, still pulsating with pain.

"You did this to me." She pushed him. "You let those men kidnap me." She pushed him again. "You let him keep me prisoner." She pushed him a third time into a table. "Do you understand the torture that man put me through?"

Her words made his stomach turn. Her marked distress was infectious, for he was feeling as out of breath and tearful as she. He pulled her by the hand into his library, in the adjoining room. At first she pulled back, but she allowed him to lead her after a few tugs. Once in the library she put her hands to her hips, still as angry as before. His words came slowly; they were graven and indeed sincere, though they admitted his own guilt, "You were never the intended target."

Her eyes shut heavily, as her head tipped downward. She laughed sarcastically through her weeping. "So you just intended to murder your brother, is that it?–I just got in the wrong carriage." She waved her hand up in the air. "Is that how you're going to play it? It was Louis' fault for offering up his carriage or perhaps the greater fault was in me accepting. You let me go in that carriage when you _knew_ what would happen to me!–I'm lucky they didn't shoot me.–Then being brought like a slave to that man…oh, how could you ever deal with such a man?"

"Elora, I would never wish any harm on you. I love–"

She interrupted, as if the mere word _love_ that spouted from his lips were poison to her ears. "And the worst of it, you meant even a more awful fate for Louis, your own brother, the man I love and want to have a family with." She grabbed his shoulders with both hands. "How many lives must you so recklessly destroy? Are you so hungry for power?" She searched his eyes for an answer.

"Elora, I see what a vicious being I was." He lifted her hands from him and tried to hold them, but she pulled away. "I never should have let you go in that coach, but I truly thought you had the means to protect yourself with the pistol or that the attack would have been a failure."

"Are you such a coward to have let me face certain death so you could maintain your position and keep scheming?"

Her bitter, discerning words burned into him like a flaming arrow. "The moment you told me of your trials and I saw your injuries, I realized my sins and was ashamed of them.–Elora, I cannot change the past, but I can promise you an improved future. All I can give you now is my deepest apology."

She shook her head. "Philippe, you betrayed our friendship. Please don't ask me to forgive you; the wounds are just too new." She moved toward the salon, like she was going to leave, but then she turned back. "I am so unsure whether I can trust you, yet I am compelled to ask; are you penitent for attempting to take Louis' life?"

"Now I am."

"Because you've been caught?"

"No. It was your love." He drew closer to her. "I still do not believe Louis deserves you, but I realize your love for him. Regardless of my feelings for you, you love me as a brother. I should have honored you as a sister. You were mine to protect."

"Are you done with all this? In trying to usurp the crown? Louis' life is more important to me than my own. I am sure I would die if I were to lose him. Can you promise me you will never make such an attempt on his life again?"

Those were some heavy words she wanted him to swear to. He was not sure if he agreed he would be able to live up to it. Being king was something he had desired for so long and did still salivate for, yet all this plotting had been quite exhausting. And what had it gotten him…nothing, except maybe a place on the chopping block. His attempts were always foiled and this time it cost him so much more than disappointment.

"I could never harm Louis without harming you…and you have my word no harm will ever befall you at my hand again." He once again held out his hand. She took it with a quick shake.

"I think you should leave before Louis finds out."

He nodded, "Before you tell him?"

"Yes."

It was then Philippe heard the floor creaking across the room. He turned toward the doorway at his right where the sound came from. There stood Louis. How long had he been standing there? Or better yet, how much had he heard?

Philippe straightened up, trying to appear unruffled from Louis' presence. Elora turned to see Louis only seconds later. Her eyes widened. "Oh Louis," she cried painfully.

Louis took a few steps toward her and held out the green robe he had crumpled in his hands. He helped her into her robe and mumbled, almost incoherently, "I feared you might catch a chill."

There was silence for sometime as his brother looked upon his betrothed. Her hand rested on his arm with a familiar comfort.

Philippe shifted uncomfortably. "Brother," their heads turned to him with attention. "You caught us in the middle of our goodbye. I will be off this very day. If you will be so kind as to let me prepare for the journey.–Elora, I will truly miss..."

Philippe snatched her hand in attempt to kiss it. He had not even bent his head down yet to meet her hand, when Louis punched him in the face. Elora jumped back out of the fray. Philippe felt the blood dripping from his lip down his chin. His blood began to boil and he had restrain himself from the impulse to swing back.

"You will not lay a hand on Elora or _I will kill you_! Not after what you have done to her! I knew you were damned nuisance the day you were born," Louis exclaimed contemptuously. "Until now I have been clement and forgiven you your sins, but this cannot be forgiven. All fingers point to condemn you. What have you to say in your defense, Brother? If you confess your guilt now the consequences may be less severe."

He looked away from Louis back at Elora hoping to find a warm face, but found none. He was alone and he would be punished for his sins that was certain. He spoke resolutely, "Blood will have blood, I see." Taking a handkerchief he wiped the blood from his lower lip and chin. "I love Elora; I would never wish such sufferings on her. It is your fault. You insisted she take the carriage that bore the royal crest, even though I pressed you not to. She is not royalty; she should not have been traveling in it alone. You should have been in that carriage. You should have died."

"And," Louis continued calmly. "The gunman in the Versailles gardens; do you take responsibility for that as well?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"Oh Philippe!" she cried. "The more I learn, the less I feel I know you."

"I meant everything I said to you, Elora. Do not doubt me now."

"Philippe, you are my brother, how could you be so hateful? This is not something I can let pass, this is a serious crime. It is treason to attempt to take the life of France's monarch and the punishment is death, even for a prince." Though Philippe did not move his gaze from Louis, he could hear Elora begin to cry. "Guards!" Louis yelled. As summoned, three guards came bustling into the room. "Discreetly conduct His Highness, Prince Philippe to the dungeons. He is to have a lash with the whip for every day my betrothed was gone, twenty lashes for what she has suffered, and twenty for what I have suffered. Keep him there until I decide what else is to be done," Louis ordered.

"Wait! Louis!" She grabbed hold of Philippe's arm firmly before the guards took him. To say the least he was a bit relieved. "Please don't do this. There has to be another way."

"Elora, you have to accept that he must be punished for his crime. I will not bend to your will in this matter."

The guards pulled him from her grasp and guided him out. She may not have forgiven him, but at least she still cared. That was enough for Philippe for now.

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Elora had gone to bed last night with the comfort of being home with Louis. She had jarred awake this morning with a terrible revelation. How did Philippe know she was held in a _chateau_? He must have known about it all. His demeanor since she returned had suggested it, but she had overlooked it. That explained why he strategically made sure she had a gun with her in the carriage. Philippe was the ringleader!

Now Philippe was being dragged from the room to be beaten and she could do nothing. When the doors were shut Louis spoke. "I knew something was wrong when you ran from the bedchamber, but I hoped it was merely folly."

"I was going to tell you, but I had to confirm it first. Throwing around those sorts of accusations can be slanderous."

He tipped his head in a displeased manner. "You told him to run."

"Yes, I did," she conceded. "I suppose I didn't want anyone else to get hurt."

He nodded his head in silent acceptance. "This will not end today. His devices to overthrow me will continue.-And what of our children? Will they ever be safe with their power-hungry uncle on the loose?-Can I keep him alive?" he sobbed.

Elora was quick to hug him, holding him tightly as she combed her fingers lovingly through his tussled hair. "Louis, you must do what you think is right. Our options are limited because of the positions we hold. An outsider might think we are the only ones to do what we want, but we know better. It is quite the opposite.-You can't imprison him forever and you can't kill him either. Think of the gossip it will cause. Do we really want this drama to get out for the world to know? It would be a disgrace for all of us."

"Better disgraced than dead." She rolled her eyes up to him. "Yes indeed, for sure this must be kept concealed."

"I think the whipping is a sufficient punishment for the time being," Elora finished, closing her eyes trying not to think about how Sameer beat her.

"This will never be over until one of us is dead. He will never stop trying to take everything that I claim as mine.–Let us go now. We must be present for Philippe's punishment."

"If you mean watch him get beaten to a pulp I most certainly will not." She backed away from him, prepared to run away if necessary. He looked her over, with heavy eyes and a tightly shut mouth. He nodded his head. As they walked from of Philippe's quarters they were met by the ever so stoic Colbert and courageous d'Artagnan. Bows were made with sorrowful looks toward them. Louis gave orders Colbert was to escort her back to her bedchamber. Before they went their separate ways down the hall Louis gave her a brief kiss on the forehead.

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Colbert took Elora Roux's arm graciously. He was not surprised this morning to hear that the king had spent his night with his betrothed. What surprised him was not finding Louis resting in her bed so early in the day, for the room was abandoned. Upon questioning the servants and being led to the prince's chambers he felt dread. He had first seen Philippe being pushed out of the room by the guards and caught a glimpse of the distressed king and his lady in the room before the doors shut in his face.

He understood what had taken place without needing explanation. He had long since suspected Philippe of these crimes, but had been unable to secure any evidence against him. Elora Roux had winked a confession out of the prince in one exchange, which impressed him.

Colbert could sense, even though Elora was distraught and tense to his touch, she was obviously glad to have assistance. He had not made life easy for her at Versailles. He had set out to distress her since the beginning; by denying her allowance, having her watched by his own guard, investigating her family lineage, pointing out her uncouth behavior to the king, advising Louis against the union at every turn, and even encouraging Lady Magdalena in her advances. Yet he had not prevailed, for the most part Elora remained unruffled and seemingly oblivious of most of his efforts.

The good Lord, in his many mysterious ways, had pushed those two together from first glance. The wedding was coming upon them quickly. It was time to resign himself. Elora Roux would be his queen and he could frankly affirm it was for the best. No good came from their division and they always seemed to find their way back to one another, despite the world's efforts to separate them.

He abhorred the admission, but Elora Roux's presence at King Louis' side had become a necessity for him to function as a monarch. At every separation, be it a physical or emotional one, the king could not effectively fulfill his duties, but as it worked out she was exactly what he needed. Though she was certainly less than worthy to wed such an exalted king and she did not resemble at all the wife he would have chosen for Louis, Colbert knew she was the best mate for him to share his life with. She inspired the greatness of a king, which Colbert always knew he could become.

"Comtesse, I am sorry for what happened to you. I do not know where you have been these weeks, but if it was planned from the wickedness of the prince's warped mind, then I cannot imagine how terrible it must have been for you."

Her eyes widened as she looked at him for perhaps the second time with a warm heart. "My lord," there was even surprise in her voice. "No one is to blame except Prince Philippe, which pains me to say.-I must thank you. Louis told me of your diligent efforts to find me when I was kidnapped."

"Yet you managed to return by your own merits."

"Yeah, just through the skin of my teeth though.-Colbert, can there at last be a truce between us?"

He drew a deep breath. "I would like that." She smiled brightly and he could not restrain to do the same.

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Commencement of the whipping was not an event to be made public to the court. Louis' heart was burdened with betrayal, regret, and discontent. He found viewing whippings a distasteful and messy business, but he would see justice done for Elora's sake, if not for the crown. He was accompanied by Captain d'Artagnan as they followed after Philippe.

Elora was affected so differently than he could have expected. She should be just as outraged as he, more so because she was the greatest victim of this, but she was not outraged. Perhaps momentarily she had been, but it faded as soon as Philippe became apologetic. She was far too compassionate.

The cell where Philippe was held was dimly lit and there was a constant sound of dripping water echoing in the air. The guards had placed handkerchiefs on the shackles, almost out of courtesy for the prince. Louis felt he deserved no such courtesy. As Philippe hung shamefully by the chains he would neither look in his direction, nor would he open his mouth. Louis expected him to begging for clemency by now, but he did not. He would have been more impressed if he were not so infuriated at his younger brother.

Louis' fury lessened slightly with the crack of the whip and the blood that came from it. This was justice, whether Elora cared for it or not. Philippe did not cry out, though he did moan once or twice.

When the punishment was concluded he ordered that Philippe be carried back to his chambers. He was to be sent to his country estate, _Chateau Nuef_, under the guise of being there for improved health, when in fact Louis was holding him under house arrest. All communiqué he had would first be intercepted by the crown. Louis was confident he would be able to do no harm there under constant observation.

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Thérèse sat in the music salon, between her fiancé and brother as Lady Françoise, Mademoiselle de Valois,played several sweet melodies on the harp. Though Lady Françoise was a first cousin of the blood, she was still young at age fifteen. They had never communicated until she had moved to Versailles. The king originally designed to betroth her to the prince, but he had since decided if Philippe were to wed anyone it would be a more political match versus one for convenience.

Cesaire reached over and rested his hand on hers. As the song's end there came a clapping from behind. They turned to look and saw Elora Roux, looking dazzling in royal blue. Unfortunately taking all the attention away from Lady Françoise, everyone went rushing to Elora with loving embraces.

Thérèse was so pleased to have Elora home and safe again. They had bid goodbye so quickly and then she was off in the king's carriage. News of the carriage being attacked reached them after the king had been informed when soldiers came to the town searching all homes. She feared her visit at Chartres was going to be the last time she saw her.

Christophe could not have been more distressed. He blamed himself on many points. He did not sleep for days, for fear of what happened to her. The family returned to Versailles upon the king's command, but it was not until Lady Françoise joined their company a few days ago that Christophe began to smile again. Elora's return was exceptional, but she shuttered when hearing from the king at dinner last night about what Elora had suffered. They were all shocked, apart from Thérèse, to find out she had not been rescued, but had in fact escaped. Now she was home, out of harm's way and she looked wonderful, though there was still some sadness in her eyes.

"Oh, Elora!" She hugged and kissed her on the cheeks. "Thank the Lord you are safe! Your face looks thinner! Did they starve you?"

"Only a little." Elora answered nonchalantly.

Christophe was all concerned again and pulled Elora into his embrace. "Are you well?"

"Yes," she assured, releasing herself from the embrace tactfully.

"Have they apprehended the culprits?" asked Cesaire.

Her smile faded at the question. She searched the floor, as she always did when she was thinking up away of how to answer without actually answering. "Well, the men directly involved in taking me have not been found, but the person behind it…let's just say he will not hurt anyone again."

"But who, Elora?"

She looked to them with a mysterious, close-mouthed smile.

"Will you not tell us?" asked Thérèse.

"It's not that I don't want to, but Louis has not given me leave to speak about it. Besides, talking about it hurts too much."

"After all you have suffered, your friends would never want to cause you additional grief, so we will not speak of it again." Thérèse finished, looking to the gentlemen, deciding for them.

"Thank you.-I have missed you all so much. And I see we have a new member to our little group." She was of course speaking of Lady Françoise, who had in fact been totally forgotten, but was sitting patiently on the sofa with a sugary smile.

"Elora, you know Lady Françoise. She has just been entertaining us with her accomplishments on the harp. She sings so well too. You really must hear her someday."

Elora and she curtsied and exchanged pleasantries. They all sat back down and Elora told her of Louis' praises of his young cousin. Louis always favored his French cousins. They all sat and enjoyed a cup of thick, sweet hot chocolate before Elora announced she was tired and would rest.

Christophe was the first to insist she be accompanied back to her room, but after seeing Lady Françoise's sincere disappointment Elora emphatically refused. She opened the door to show where a guard stood. He was assigned to follow her at all times, so she did not need an escort. Thérèse did not necessarily agree, but Elora would have her own way.

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During the usual evening festivities, Elora and Louis had danced so much that the ballroom had grown unbearably warm for them both. No one would know from that steaming room that it was winter outside. So she was pleased when Louis suggested a walk around the Parterre of Latona. A brief walk outdoors would be sufficiently cooling.

She was happy to be home with Louis, but at the same time was distressed about Philippe. Louis had not spoken of the whipping and she was not going to encourage him.

"You are too silent tonight, Elora. What disturbs your peace?"

"I think you know.–Philippe may be power-hungry and I will admit even slightly villainous, but he is still your brother. I understand your reasons, but how can you make justice truly served in this situation?–I hate to bring this up, but hear me out. My brothers, Wesley and Damien have been taken from me. Trust me I know how little brothers can be." She laughed to herself, looking up at the star speckled night sky. "One time, I got in past curfew and my parents hadn't noticed, but Damien did and he _had_ to wake them up to ensure I was caught. I was grounded for two weeks. His video game mysteriously went missing those weeks too.–Another time, Wesley thought it was funny to put his pet snake in my bed while I was sleeping. I woke screaming and vowed to kill Wesley, I was so angry. Mom and Dad only thought it was funny. He didn't even really get in trouble for it. He was quite a butt-head." She looked at him with her eyes full with tears. "Now those moments I once loathed, I wish I could have again. I loved them very much; from their sweet, child-like questions to their annoying taunts. I could never do to my brothers what you did to Philippe. You may have lost your brotherhood when the whip hit his back and you may never get it back. You should have let me handle it." Her head sunk, looking to the ground and closing her eyes.

"Elora, I know what you would have done. Accepted an apology at face value and then forgiven him, going on with life as if it had not happened. You do not really comprehend Philippe. That would not have been enough. He would have planned and plotted again and perhaps the next time he would have succeeded in destroying our lives."

"And you think your way of punishing him did not exacerbate the situation? You think your way of dealing with him did not cause him to want to retaliate and still desire to hurt us?" She was getting cold, but indoors with all the ears about was nowhere to be finishing this conversation.

"Well…" His hesitation proved she was right. "I have known him his entire life. This is not the first time he has _retaliated_. For years he has caused riots against my rule, he had hired assassins to kill me, and now he is using you to get to me. I have forgiven his sins more than I ever could have had he not been my brother and the crown prince. No chastisement from you would dissuade him from his life's goal in destroying my life."

"Well if you are completely certain then imprison him in the Bastille or banish him. If he is threatening yours or anyone else's life then he shouldn't be walking free."

"I cannot do that. He is second in line to the throne. When we have an heir we can proceed differently. I will be able to do something then."

"I still think you two can come to a civil agreement.–I wish you were at peace…maybe you'll never be. I suppose I have to accept that my brother-in-law may not be as much a brother as I wanted him to be."

"So you are no longer angry with me?"

"Silly boy! I wasn't angry with you. I love you. Take me to my bedroom and I'll give you a goodnight kiss that will knock your socks off." She playfully pulled at his doublet. He entangled her in his embrace and kissed her. He scooped her up at and carried her back into the chateau, as she whispered sweet things in his ear.

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**Dear Readers,**

**Sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and finally finding out who was behind it all, if you hadn't already figured it out. ;) Now there is only the wedding to anticipate and perhaps a little more! I'll try to get the next chapter out to you sooner! As always I appreciate feedback! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**God bless, **

**L.B. Tempia**


	34. Chapter 34

19

CHAPTER 34

In the weeks before the royal wedding the chateau was a mad house. Elora had no time to dwell on Philippe's betrayal or the trauma of the kidnapping. By now invitations had been sent out to royalty and aristocracy throughout Europe. Naturally she assumed she would have to go through all the difficulties of planning the wedding, but that was not the way it was done here. Monsieur Jacques was commissioned by Louis to serve as planner to the 'grandest royal wedding the seventeenth century would ever have', Monsieur Jacques often said, but she knew he was quoting Louis. He was a rotund man in his mid-forties and the most overwhelming person she had ever met. The pace he moved about matched the quickness of his speech; like he was just feeling the effects of five double vente cappuccinos.

He was doing a fabulous job, especially considering the time constraint, but she was not satisfied. Too many things were being planned for her wedding without her and it was getting on her nerves. Options for the ceremonies, including flowers, food, decorations, and attire for the wedding party were not even going to be presented to her. Having a full staff of servants to do absolutely everything was fine at first, but some things she wanted to at least decide on.

Finally she hit her breaking point when she heard they intended the color yellow for the maid's gowns. Courtiers who were not even part of the ceremony knew before she did. She rushed to her room to scream so she would not make a scene in the Hall of Mirrors. She wrote down little ideas she had for changes to the wedding. She pressed down the quill angrily as she wrote; deciding she wanted roses instead of lilies and she wanted the ladies in the wedding party to be wearing gowns of lavender. Before long she had an entire page of comments.

She voiced her displeasure to Louis with list of desired changes in hand the next morning. He saw to it that every choice was passed by her before it was decided. Monsieur Jacques was quite affronted by the king's new command, but she justified that it was her wedding, not his.

She looked through dozens of sketches of potential wedding gowns the couturière would custom create. She had always liked the Regency-style for a gown with an empire waist and short sleeves, but that was not only completely impractical at this time of year, but also such fashions were not yet imagined. She was pleased with the design in the end, though it was not as she had imagined when she was a child.

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Christmas was coming upon them quickly and Louis was quite excited to be spending it with his betrothed. After a light dinner on Christmas Eve, Elora surprised him with an impromptu adventure. She met him in the parlor of his chambers carrying an oversized ax over her shoulder. He nearly fainted at that moment.

"Elora, what in heaven's name are you going to do with that?"

"What people generally use it for, of course." She smiled knowingly. "I've been planning this for some months now. You'd better button up, it's cold outside."

Louis layered up with a cloak, hat and gloves as she had. She led him into the gardens toward the menagerie. It was growing dark, but she assured him the lantern he now held was enough. During the walk she talked him in depth about her family's traditions for Christmas.

Today Elora would have been having dinner with her family, opening a gift from her grandmother, and going to midnight mass. Tomorrow she would travel to her aunt's home where there entire family gathered for celebration. They would eat turkey and get drunk on eggnog. Her voice trembled as she spoke, though the cold night air could have been the reason he was certain it was subject matter that was the cause. She did not cry any longer and her futuristic stories lessened over the months, but emotions still ran high when she did reminisce.

They pushed through the greenery off the designated path. "Here it is, Louis! Hold up the lantern higher." There before them was a perfectly symmetrical, perhaps five-foot high, evergreen tree. "This will be our first Christmas tree together." She reached out to pass the ax to him, but he did not take it.

"What do expect of me, Elora?"

"What do you think? I want you to chop it down." She looked at him in anticipation.

"I can call for someone."

"Oh, don't you dare ruin this for me!" She pushed him and shoved the ax at him. "Take it!"

With a grumble, Louis reluctantly took it. When he took his first swing at the tree trunk the few splinters of wood went flying. "Dare I ask what you plan to do with this tree once I finish? It will not burn, it is too green."

"I know that very well, Louis. We will bring this tree into the house and decorate it. I will put your present beneath it and we will open it in the morning."

"That does not sound entirely unpleasant." He continued with his task.

"Louis, since you are being such a good sport I will teach you some of my favorite Christmas carols."

The tree finally crashed to the ground after he struggled with it for some minutes. He looked at her dropping the ax. He assumed she was going to ask him to pick up the tree and drag it back to the chateau, but instead she kissed his cold cheek and thanked him for a job well done. She proceeded to secure her gloves and pick up the tree by the trunk and began the trek back to the chateau. Her determination never failed to impress him. "Elora, you should not need to do this. I beg you to stop." She turned around toward him. "The Queen of France…"

"Louis, please," she begged. "I must do this. You can share the burden with me when I tire, but don't make me give this up." Whether a conscience intention or not, Elora always used that phrase to guilt him into agreement. Why she would not want to give up manual labor was beyond him. He would never fully conceive what she sacrificed not merely to live here, but also to be his wife and queen. For that fact alone he could deny her next to nothing.

He nodded and they continued their return. She began to sing _O__Holy__Night_ and Louis chimed in when he could. By the time they reached the Apollo Fountain Elora could walk no longer and he gladly took over for her, hating to see such an exertion. He noted his fine gloves were ruined from the pine sap within minutes. He could not have been more relieved to hear the thumping of booted feet coming his way. Indeed it was four of his guard quickly approaching. They both protested, but forfeited to them in the end. So the guards carried the blasted tree up to Elora's attic chamber. It was placed in a potted stand on the opposite side of the room from the small fireplace.

Elora was overjoyed with the addition of the tree. She helped him off with his layers and encouraged him to warm up by the fire. Her servant diligently had hot chocolate waiting for them. Elora crawled under her bed with her skirts puffing up around her and pulled out two boxes. They were filled with ribbons of all festive colors, small silver bells, and bearberries threaded together for garland. They continued caroling as they decorated the tree with care. Before they knew it, it was nearly time for midnight mass and they had to change their clothes. Louis left her with a deep kiss, confessing he had never enjoyed the holiday so much until this day. She laughed and assured him there was much delight to come.

The Christmas Eve midnight mass in the small chapel was well orchestrated. Candles were alight in every direction. There was a special presentation of the nativity. A lovely choir of boys sang peaceful songs in Latin. This would be the last time Elora would sit in the Versailles chapel as a comtesse. When she next visited she would be sitting by Louis in a throne of her very own.

The majority of the courtiers were off to bed early to prepare for the long day of festivities tomorrow. Elora spent some time with him in his chambers before going off to bed herself.

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Christmas day arrived and she could not wait to go to be with Louis. She wanted to rush over to wake Louis from his bed herself, but remembered how much Louis disliked her walking through the halls in her nightgown. She had woken early specifically to have time to dress and still be the first person Louis would see.

Suzanne was the first person Elora wished a Merry Christmas to. Elora took this time to thank her profusely for every little undertaking she done without fail. Living at Versailles would be nearly impossible without her. Suzanne was so humble when it came to this and emphasized that she was most pleasant to serve. Elora picked up the box from under the tree for Suzanne. "This is for you. I hope you like it."

Suzanne unwrapped it and opened the box full of treasures. First was a midnight blue, white, and black gown of a finer fabric than Suzanne ever dreamed she would have for herself.

"Now where would I have an opportunity to wear this, Elora?"

"Why don't you finish looking at your gifts first, then you can question my judgment."

So Suzanne picked up a pink velvet pouch. It was filled with coins; all gold louis'. "Where-ever did you come by so much Elora? And why would you give it to me?"

"I had some very good luck against the king and the Duc de Nevers at the card tables.–Don't forget to look at that there." Elora pointed to the rolled up parchment. "It's the best of all."

Suzanne unrolled the paper. It was a release of servitude. She was no longer a bound servant of the crown. "Can this be real?"

"Yes it is. It was partially under selfish motives. Now you will be able to serve me as a one of my ladies in waiting after I get married; if you want."

"With all my heart!"

They embraced as excitement filled the air. "So the other gifts make better sense now I'm sure."

"You have given me so much happiness today. No one has ever been so kind to me."

"I say the same about you. I could never go on here without you, I depend on your kindness and knowledge more that you know.–I need to get dressed in a hurry. I want to get to Louis before anyone else has a chance to bother him this morning."

She hurriedly put a red gown on and Suzanne assisted with the lacing. Suzanne was still braiding her hair when there came a knock at the door. Louis entered a moment later and she nearly tumbled to the ground out of her chair.

"Louis!" yelled with excitement. Suzanne struggled to tie the ribbon to the end of her hair as she hurried to Louis. Elora embraced him, so pleased that they would have some time together before morning brunch with the court.

"_Joyeux Noël_ to you_, _my love."

"What are you doing here?"

"You mentioned giving me a gift today and I was searching for an excuse to see you."

"We think so alike. I was on my way to wake you and bring you here."

She brought him over to the tree and they sat on the carpet before it. She reached around the tree and retrieved a box wrapped in fine green silk and tied with a red ribbon. She put it in his lap and encouraged him to open it.

He took his time unwrapping the gift, though she could sense he was anxious to find out its contents. The box was finally opened and excitement followed. He slowly pulled out a small frame with a simple sketch of them.

"What made you think of…"

"Well, let me tell you. You know how Monsieur Le Brun attended the Roux Ball; I asked him to make a sketch of how we were that evening when you announced our engagement. He distinctly remembered our attire and adoring attachment to each other that night. He captured us well don't you think?"

"Indeed. It truly could be made into a much larger portrait."

"And look, this frame, it stands up so you can put it on your desk in the council room or wherever you please."

"Elora, this is indeed thoughtful."

"I'm glad you like it! I have something else for you too. I wasn't sure about it. If you don't like it you can throw it away. I thought you might not understand it or even find it immature."

"Well, let me decide. Hand it over."

She took a deep breath and reached under the tree for another small package wrapped in silver cloth. Again he opened it, but only a confused expression followed. He picked out the small pile of decorated papers. He looked at her for answers.

"These are vouchers that you can give to me for services whenever you desire. They have no expiration date." Still he looked at her. "Just read them, Louis, you'll see what I mean."

So he read the one on top. "Voucher good for one private, six-course dinner made by Chef Elora.–So do you mean when I would like you to cook my meal I need only ask?"

"And turn in the voucher to me." He began to smile with satisfaction.

"But Elora, you should not use the kitchens."

"Let's not discuss the details right now. Read the others."

So he went on, "Voucher good for one free dance lesson with dancer, Elora Roux.–One free consultation with Dr. Elora Roux when feeling under the weather.–One complimentary back rub with soothing body oil.–Finally, oh I like this one! One romantic bath for two."

He motioned to hand her that coupon. "I believe I will be claiming this one today."

"I forgot to tell you that certain stipulations might apply. Please read the fine print." She pointed to the bottom of that coupon.

"May not redeem until January 1, 1663. Now Elora, is this fair? You are giving me this as a gift now."

"Well, I could take them all away until after we are married then." She reached her hand out so he could give them back to her.

"No, I think not." He moved his hand behind his back. She attacked him with a kiss, which made him drop everything to hold her. He had her on her back and was nearly on top of her, showering her with kisses when a knock came at the door. She knew it was not Suzanne.

They both stood and adjusted their clothes before allowing the visitor entrance. It was two of Louis' young pages. Each boy carried a gilt, wooden box. He ordered them to place the gifts under the tree. As soon as the door was once again closed they giggled and sat on the floor once again.

"Doesn't it seem like we're always waiting anxiously for a door to close before we can relax and be ourselves?"

"Yes, but it is even more fun with you around. Now you may open you gifts."

She leaned forward and took the closer box. Inside she found a fine, gold pomander bedazzled with brilliant diamonds.

"I took notice you did not have one. This will suit nicely with your figure and coloring I think. I tried to match the scent to the one I inhaled the first day I knew you. I smelled your floral aroma before I even knew you were in the bed next to me."

She blushed just thinking about that day. "It's lovely, Louis. Thank you! I'll wear it today. Can I open the other now?"

He nodded his head as she was already going for second box. It was much larger than the first. She was hoping there was a kitten inside, but alas there was not. It was a very fine tea set.

"It has traveled a great distance for you from China. I am told it is the only one like it in the world."

"Ah, very nice. I knew it was an Asian motif, but I did not expect it would have been made there." It was funny that even in 17th century France she still had stuff that was made in China. "It is lovely. Now we just need tea."

"It is there in the bottom layer of the box. I am not familiar with how to make it, but–"

"Don't worry, Louis. Tea is very common in my time. I can steep a pot of tea with my eyes closed." She smiled.

They ate a light breakfast with a small group of the elite courtiers with royal blood coursing through their veins. Perhaps fifty sat at the table alongside Elora and Louis. The only one who was missing was Philippe. Elora was sad in a way that he was not there, but she was fine with not seeing him.

The feasting lasted all day through late at night. They really knew how to celebrate the birth of Christ in France. Many of the higher-ranking religious celebrated at Versailles too. They day was spent with music, dancing, food, wine, indoor and outdoor games. She was not sure she should have been enjoying the food so much, considering her wedding was only a week away, but she could not help herself, the food was that good.

By midnight the party was dying down, but celebrating could still be heard throughout the town outside the gates. Elora and Louis had no more solitary time together that day, though he never left her side for more than five minutes the entire day. He stayed up later smoking with the gentlemen, after she excused herself for the night.

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The day after Christmas is always a quiet one, it was no different at Versailles. Everyone was too busy recovering from the previous day's festivities not a soul walked the halls or gardens. She was leaving her room to go practice for the ceremony with Father Michel, when she saw Louis heading down the hall toward her. She was surprised to see him. He should have been in a meeting with his council at this time. There was a pressing matter to deal with, perhaps the need to go to war with Belgium.

Louis greeted her with a kiss. His grass green doublet brought out the blue in his eyes. He wanted her to join him for a walk. They always took a walk after lunch; she knew something must be wrong if he was breaking his routine. She agreed and took his arm. Her concern must have been painted on her face, for he was quick to assure her nothing was amiss. They began their usual indoor-walking route, down the Queen's Staircase towards the chapel, then back up the Gabriel Staircase.

She smiled and was pleased to look upon the man she was going to marry. Nothing had ever felt so right in her life, like when a composer completes his masterpiece. Every note written was an experience in her life, the first starting with her birth. Every occasion that brought her joy or she learned a lesson was a melodious note pressing her forward toward the completion of the masterpiece.

"The couturière has finished your wedding gown and she would like to ensure it fits."

"I knew this walk had some ulterior motive. Why are you coming with me? You know my feelings about you seeing the gown."

Louis spent so much effort in trying to make both of them look good with fashionable clothes she believed he must have been a fashion designer in another life. His vanity consumed him; at times she wished it were not such a great concern for him.

"I thought you might change your mind. Especially since I am not only the groom, but your guardian and king."

"You think that will intimidate me? You're not really my guardian."

"But I am your king."

"My allegiance is to France and I suppose I've come to think of you as my king."

"Then shall I command you to allow me to see your gown?"

She lifted a cocky brow. "Not unless you want an uneventful wedding night."

Louis smiled. "If anyone could find a way around my rule you can."

"Then you will wait?"

"I'm waiting for everything else, why should I not wait for this as well."

She punched his arm playfully. "Now don't get huffy. You will appreciate my decision when you see me walking down the aisle in the church."

He led her to the couturière's dressing room and grudgingly bid her goodbye at the door, kissing her on the cheek before leaving. The couturière was there waiting. Elora gasped in amazement when she saw the gown on a mannequin. The beauty of such a material thing entranced her. It was the most exquisite gown she had ever seen.

The gown was rich, ivory duchess satin, layered with the finest Venetian lace. Sprinkled over the skirt were small, silver butterfly pins, which pulled up the gown in layers, giving the appearance of petals on a rose. With the skirt pulled back it revealed the underskirt of golden duchess satin, embroidered with a detailed design of roses. Small diamonds embellished the design, enhancing its extravagant appearance. The collar was a tastefully low-cut, v-neck with a hem of hundreds of seed pearls. The fur-lined, hanging sleeves split apart at the elbow to reveal the embroidered satin undersleeves hemmed with seed pearls. The pointed bodice was heavily embroidered with ropes of flawless diamonds sewn at the collar, hanging in delicate layers down to her waist. The cape and train length of the gown trailed twenty feet and was not detachable. The under layer of the cape was lined with fine white rabbit fur to ensure she kept warm. There were also dainty, satin, heeled shoes to match, entirely covered in diamond chips, which put Dorothy's ruby slippers to shame. The veil was sheer Venetian lace and extended the same length as the train.

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The entire wedding/coronation party traveled by covered sleigh to Paris and lodged at the _Louvre_. The Louvre was not as she expected. She had seen pictures of the vast museum, but the only similarity was its exterior. It was a grand palace, with a very medieval atmosphere. Stone walls and tapestries, filled the very inviting palace.

She was allowed to stay in the designated queen's chambers, though she was not yet queen. Louis was usually a stickler for such formalities, but his mood was so light when they arrived he escorted her to the chambers himself, insisting she make herself comfortable.

Elora and he had no time to rest after their arrival. A special lunch with foreign dignitaries from Spain and then off to the tedious rehearsals for hours upon hours. She had many lines to memorize and she was taking great pains learn everything. Louis said, though he had been a child during his coronation, even then he had a talent at memorizing lines, which made her feel even more deficient. A six year old had accomplished what she was still failing at.

The night before the wedding there was a ball to introduce all of the guests, but there were still many who would not be arriving until the next day for the wedding. She got to the ball late because everyone had last minute questions. Little things like what was the diameter of her head for the crown or what fragrance she wanted to wear tomorrow. She met the royalty of Europe, not kings and queens; mostly princes, princesses, and dukes. She could not communicate well with many of them. Only a few knew French. Translators served and were appreciated in this situation.

This night seemed like any other with dinner and dancing, except for the fact there were so many foreigners and the ballroom was much more spacious. She felt nervous, not because tomorrow would bring on a great change and she would be married, but rather the ceremonies were what terrified her. She could remember where to go and when, but it was still all the lines she had to spout which gave her trouble. She was a ballerina, not an actress. That's what she liked about dancing, words were not necessary.

Elora decided to go to bed early so she could finally have some quiet time alone and have some peace to pray about her impending sacrament of marriage.

A few days ago, she asked Louis about Philippe, wondering if he would still be allowed to attend their wedding. Louis was certain he would only ruin their happy day if he came. He feared Philippe's devious behavior; that he would only make a scene with his presence. Being the crowned prince, Philippe should be the first in line to pay her homage at the coronation.

To the contrary of Louis' feelings on the matter, Elora had wanted his brother there. It was only right and it would be a good opportunity for them to make amends. The council insisted on his presence, perhaps because he had still had some allies in them, so Louis conceded. Every precaution would be taken and he would still remain under guard.

Philippe was not at the ball tonight. He was another who would arrive tomorrow. Louis did not want his presence near court and his supporters any longer than necessary. She had to agree. Philippe had already proved that jealousy and greed meant more to him than love and family. She could never completely trust a man with such backwards scruples.

Suzanne woke her at seven to start preparing for the ceremony. The servants poured in only seconds after she put on her robe. Before she finished her breakfast her hair was being done, makeup was being applied, and layers of cloth were being draped over her. Her hair was washed with lemon oil and fragranced with spikenard, making it shine like glass. It was left down as a symbol of virginity; virginity long gone, but no one had to know that. Strands of pearls were pinned into her curled hair. She was veiled and then crowned with a diadem of white pearls, with teardrop-shaped, white opals hanging from every other pearl.

The nearby church's bells noticeably rang at noon just as she was finished. The servants left upon her request so she could have time alone. She remained trapped in a trance, caught in a web of thoughts and emotions. Looking in the mirror for the first time, she could not believe what she saw in the reflection. She stared into the eyes of an entirely different person. She saw a young bride from the seventeenth century, who was going to be the Queen of France in but a few hours. How could this be happening to her? She was not this person eight months ago. If she were looking in the mirror seeing her future she would be in a long, white jacket with the words _Elora__Roux__M.D._embroidered on it. She was going to be a professional in the world. Now she was a delicate flower; out of shape and beginning to forget the language she was raised with.

Closing her eyes in meditation, she remained in front of the mirrors. How long she stood there, she knew not exactly. The door creaked slightly as it opened. "Suzanne is it already time to go?" When she opened her eyes she saw Philippe coming through the doorway. A sudden sense of dread came upon her.

"_O,__she__doth__teach__the__torches__to__burn__bright_," dripped sweetly from his lips.

She was in no mood for Shakespearean compliments. He at looked her as if he had never betrayed her and left her for dead. Her hands migrated to her hips. "Philippe, how did you get in here? Louis said you were to remain in your chambers until being escorted to the cathedral."

"You seem well informed." He looked her up and down. "I was supposed to arrive in a carriage after the king. He has already made way for the church, but I decided to make a detour to speak with you before you proceed."

"Louis will be angry when he hears of this. He does not want me alone with you and I am of a mind to agree with him."

"Elora…" He began to step closer to her, but she stepped back.

"No, Philippe! Keep away from me. I already regret not calling for the guards, don't make it worse."

"Elora, I know you will regret marrying him. I beg you not to do it. Marrying Louis will be like putting a lasso around your neck. If you were to marry me I would guarantee your freedom. Louis rules you; you may rule me." He touched her veil and began to lean towards her, as if he was about to try to kiss her, though he was still some distance away.

He had to be out of his mind! Freaking out a little, she slapped him across the face, as a lady of that time might do. "Get a grip, Philippe! This is my wedding day for goodness sake! Is betrayal always on your mind? Haven't you learned anything? This is not a Shakespearean play; this is real life. You need to stop these schemes; that's all you seem to do. Can't you get a hobby! I am going to marry Louis today and I am overjoyed. I'm certain this is the right decision, so do not try to sway me." She picked up her skirts and her train moving toward to door to let him out.

Philippe seemed to have no intention of leaving as he viewed the door she had opened for him. "Though I hear it from your lips, Elora, I still doubt, but I understand you have made your choice. Have you at least missed me?"

She closed to the door loudly, since he obviously was not leaving now. "Honestly, I've had no time to miss you. It's difficult to get past all that's happened. I wish things could be as they were. I'm always worrying over you now. What will you do next? What will happen when I'm pregnant with Louis' baby? My son will be first in line before you. Will you try to kill my child too?"

She lightly touched her stomach, remembering the child she and Louis almost had together. If anyone had tried to hurt that child she would have killed them herself. She looked into the desperate eyes fixed on her. She prayed Philippe was not capable that sort of evil.

"I could never hurt a child of your womb."

"You say that now, but when he really exists and he becomes a threat, you could easily change your tune. If you kill Louis or our babies, then I will have no other choice but to kill you." She nodded her head as she spoke, holding back angry tears. "And if you overpower me then I will kill myself."

Philippe fell to a knee and desperately held out his hand for hers. "On my soul, I swear never to cause harm to your offspring. No need to get yourself so overwrought."

He stood and put his gloved hand to her flushed cheek. His wide eyes once again met hers, as if he was searching through her mind. A sharp breath was followed with a painful sigh as he expelled the air from of his lungs. Philippe resolutely stepped away from her. To Elora that single movement conveyed he was at last raising the white flag. She took immediate comfort, sensing for the first time he had he was letting her go and even letting go of his inclinations to be king.

"Thank you, Philippe."

Elora asked Philippe to go ahead of her. A few minutes later, after she had composed herself and checked her face and hair, she left the room to venture to the church with the ladies of the bridal party.

**ooOoo**

**Dear Readers,**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 34! When I first wrote this story I forgot to incorporate something quite important…Christmas. So I found myself listening to Christmas carols on my iPod these past few weeks as I wrote. I brought back Philippe sooner than I had wanted, but I had to have him attend the wedding. **

**I'm heading to Europe on pilgrimage, will be stopping in France for a few days, but sadly not Versailles. Will update soon! Thank you for your continued support and all your encouraging words. As always I appreciate feedback! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**God bless, **

**L.B. Tempia**


	35. Chapter 35

23

CHAPTER 35

The blazing sunlight was almost blinding as she exited the palace. The air was notably crisp as she stepped up the three gilt steps into the coupé carriage. Fur-lined cloak or not, if she had remained out there any longer she would have described the weather as bitterly cold. Aside from the temperature it was a lovely day. They had replaced the wheels with runners, making the carriage into a sleigh for snow travel.

She sat across from Thérèse, who was quick to question her, "Did I see his highness, the prince coming from your chambers?" Though it was obvious she knew the answer, Elora nodded her head, but that was not enough for Thérèse. "I know something transpired between you two. Ever since you returned to Versailles, you look away or change the subject at the sound of his name. Was his offense so unforgivable?"

"Many would think so."

"Does he know the truth about where, I mean _when_ you are from?"

"No and it will stay that way. He is never to be trusted with that information. Though the air was cleared a bit between us and a few concerns were abated, there has been a great deal lost between us that will never be recovered."

"I am sorry for that."

She could tell when the carriage neared Notre Dame from the sound of its glorious, chiming bells. They rang with such rich sonority they seemed like they were singing. The sleigh pulled up to the square, which was filled to the brim with common people waiting to catch a glimpse of the veiled bride. As she stepped out of the carriage she made a quick wave to the cheerful people around her. Thérèse and the other maids vigilantly arranged the train of her gown as she made her way towards the foreboding doors of the cathedral.

The Cathedral of Notre Dame was magnificent, but today it was exquisite. The sunlight shined through the large circular stained-glass windows, lighting every corner of the church. Silver and royal purple cloth hung from all points of the rafters. The purple runners were nearly covered with white rose petals.

It was when she set foot in the robing-room that the women in the wedding party began to prattle so incessantly about marriage. Ignoring them, Thérèse stood with her and held her hand as she spoke a prayer of good will. There was a knock at the door and a page entered with a royal message. The king wished to speak with her in private. Her first thought was he still wanted a chance at seeing her gown before the ceremony, but she knew it must be more serious than that.

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Louis waited in the halls for the pack of ladies to clear from the small robing-room. Elora had hidden behind a wooden floor screen. It would be bad luck if he saw her, she had told him, so he did not question her motive. Whatever little superstition gave her comfort on this day he would go along with.

"Elora, I need to speak with you on an urgent matter!"

"Then speak, my love." Her voice was calm, making him realize he had just spoken harshly.

"I have just been told that you met with Philippe this morning."

"Yes, we spoke before I came to the church. I was going to tell you about it after the ceremony. His surprise visit put me immediately on edge, but we ended up having some pretty positive dialogue. I believe we resolved a few issues we had with each other. I don't feel as burdened by his presence now."

He began to pace back and forth, not knowing how else to relieve his anxiety. Philippe had done it again; successfully fooling Elora into thinking he had mended his ways. Louis would not trust his brother ever again, especially where it concerned Elora. "He still makes me ill at ease. I do not like the idea of him standing by my side when we marry. He may ruin our wedding."

"Close your eyes, Louis, so I can come out from behind here." When he did her bidding she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his heavily clothed chest. "Now listen, I need you to trust me. Our wedding is going to be perfect. Philippe will not be a problem.–And if he is I'll be the first to give him a boot in the butt and kick him out in front of everyone. How about that?"

Her common vulgarity, which had first induced his love, still remained. Keeping his promise, with his eyes closed, he easily found her soft lips and kissed her. "One of us is right. I only hope it is you."

"I love you," she whispered.

"You know well by now that I love you too, though you do often frustrate me. Join me soon at the altar and I will have all the proof I need of your love."

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Once Louis left the room, the wedding party reentered anxious to tell her it was time for the ceremony to begin. Thérèse gave her the bouquet of white and sterling roses, a few long strands of ivy dipped in gold, and a touch of baby's breath. Her heart pounded as they walked from the room to the front of the church.

The music began; not a standard wedding march as one would expect, but rather a heavenly soprano chorus accompanied by classical music. It felt like angels singing from the heavens just for Louis and her. She got the cue it was her turn. She started down the aisle leading with her right foot to ensure good fortune. In taking her first step out everyone was standing to look at her, the king's bride, their future queen. Several people gasped at her beauty or maybe because of her lovely gown. When she gained the courage to look up she saw at least five hundred pairs of eyes watching her, but there was only one pair that mattered and he was the farthest away.

The aisle appeared a seemingly endless trail leading to a lifetime of conformity. If she moved forward her past life in the future would no longer be possible. Her family, continuing college, and becoming a doctor were to be sacrificed as she married Louis and became the Queen of France. There would be no going back. She would seal her fate in the seventeenth century, forced to live out her life here. Reigning as France's queen would be a great burden. The expectations, duties, and demands of royal life were a continuous, unrelenting job. This was a fine time for her mind to be wandering in this direction!

She took a deep breath when she reached the altar. This was really going to happen; she was getting married. Louis' loving smile was reassuring after her cold-feet attack down the aisle. Finally able to see her in her wedding gown, he took the time to look her up and down with a cocky nod of approval.

Louis looked fabulous as well in his matching gold and white ensemble. He wore nearly as many diamonds as she, not counting his fancy crown that he donned for special occasions. She handed her bouquet to Thérèse and took Louis' hand as they took a step towards the Cardinal.

His words were sweet poetry to the ears. "We are all here to witness the marriage of King Louis-Dieudonné du Bourbon and Lady Elora Amelie Roux. The both of you will take and keep this gift of wedded life as a sacred trust. Sacred it must be for thy love and God's love are within it. Thou wilt have a great ambition to make this one life now given to thee something rich, true, and beautiful.

"This holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and the first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore not by any to enterprise, not taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy man's carnal lusts and appetites. It was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name."

They both kneeled on the scarlet brocade prayer desks where the vows were to be exchanged. She remembered from rehearsal to pick up her skirts slightly in the front before kneeling on the soft cushions.

Louis vowed to have her as his wedded wife resolutely, without any hint of indecision. The cardinal asked her in what seemed like a harsher tone, "Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony for as long as you both shall live?"

This was the point of no return. She looked to Louis and his eyes were glazed over with joyful tears. She remembered the first time she saw him in a red robe, acting quite arrogant. She had thought he was a psycho-kidnapper. He had been rather thrown off his guard with her fearful screams and accusations. How far they had come since that day. She was so lucky to have found her soul mate and fallen in love with him.

"I will," she said with a steadfast heart. She took Louis as her wedded husband, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death parted them, according to God's holy ordinance. These words were so very deep and meaningful and so often taken for granted. She hoped she would always honor them as such.

The rings were carefully placed onto the prayer book.

"With this ring I thee wed," Louis said as he slid the wide band of diamonds and emeralds onto her finger. "With my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

"If any of you know just impediment, why these two persons should not be joined together in holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it."

Louis and she both held their breath as they shifted their eyes toward Philippe. There was silence until the cardinal said, "Well then, wherefore they are no more twain but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Your Majesty, you may kiss your bride."

At that very moment she realized how incredibly foolish her bridal nerves had been. Her fears faded away like the summers of yesteryear, never to be seen again. With Louis by her side for life, what did she have to fear? She was nineteen and full of life with her strong, handsome husband. Bring on the duties, the demands, and the expectations! She willingly signed onto the unrelenting job that she knew she would love and handle with care all of her life. She could not stop smiling; her cheeks were beginning to get sore. Her husband kissed her and the golden trumpets sounded.

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Louis never felt so close to a person as he did with Elora. They really had become, as the holy man said, no more twain but one flesh. She had conformed a great deal to blend into court society. Though she was no longer the same girl she was before she came here, he was certain she had changed him more than he could ever change her. He did not fully comprehend the future world she had come from; its complexity baffled him, so much so he could hardly envision it, but he knew from the way he had gone about courting her and everything about their relationship leading up to this day, it had a touch of a twenty-first century romance about it.

Loathe to be parted from her, he took his place on the throne. The dull formalities of the crown were about to begin. The whole world would now see how beautiful Elora was and how great she would become. After the rehearsal the other night he had been reminded of the extent of time this preceding took. When he had been in her place it had not seemed such a long affair. If Elora had it her way he would have just walked over and placed the golden crown on her veiled head and that would be that. He was almost partial to agree with her; yet he knew the clergy would be up in arms with that particular idea of hers.

Conforming to tradition, representatives of the church, marquis', heralds, and peers came marching down the aisle carrying the regalia. Meanwhile Elora had kneeled for private prayer. Her eyes were closed tightly and she appeared very deep in prayer. The procession was now waiting before the altar when Elora rose and went to the _Chair__de__Etta_.

About a half dozen of the clergy walked to each of the four points of the altar. They chanted words of homage and service. The trumpets sounded again as the Cardinal approached her. She kneeled upon the stair of the altar, placing her right hand on the bible and took the coronation oath; solemnly promised and swore to govern the peoples of France, her Possessions, and her other Territories. She would maintain, to the utmost of her power, the Laws of God and the true profession of the bible; as well as uphold in France the Catholic Religion established by law and preserve inviolably the settlement of the Church of France, and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in France. She kissed the book, signed the oath, and returned back to her chair.

She had made many mistakes in the rehearsal, but so far had not acted in error today. Every step she took, every word she spoke was confident. She knelt at her footstool ready to be anointed as her long, fur-lined, royal-blue satin cape was placed upon her shoulders. Not a moment too soon. He had observed her shivering for over ten minutes.

The Cardinal spoke a long prayer. She moved to the Queen's Chair beside his throne, where a pall of golden silk was held above her. The cross of oil was made on the palms of her hands, on her breast, and on the crown of her head. She was no more than five feet from him now. The scent of the oil on her skin traveled over to where he sat. Breathing it in was like an aphrodisiac. He was gripping with anticipation for the time tonight they would be alone.

She kneeled as the Cardinal said yet another prayer, but Louis could not concentrate on a single word the holy man was spouting. He thanked God the coronation was nearly at an end.

All in Notre Dame rose in unity. The Cardinal held the crown of diamonds, pearls, emeralds, and rubies. "Oh God the Crown of the faithful: Bless we beseech thee this Crown, and so sanctify thy servant Elora upon whose head this day thou dost place it for a sign of royal majesty, that she may be filled by thine abundant grace with all princely virtues: through the king eternal Jesus Christ, our Lord."

He placed the crown reverently upon her head. Doves were released and trumpets sounded. She looked to Louis; he gave her a smile and a nod. His pride for her glory in that moment radiated from him.

Elora was guided to her throne beside Louis; first curtsying to him and sneaking a wink. He knew for certain that was the last time she would ever be curtsying to him or anyone. When she was caring for him through his sickness she had told him how much she disliked curtsying to everyone.

People chanted, "God shall save the Queen. God shall make her great. God shall save the Queen."

The Cardinal was the first to kneel before her and pay homage. His words where sincere, but dry and formal, which was how Louis predicted the remainder of the ceremony would move along.

Next came Philippe, the Prince of France, kneeling at her feet. "Elora, my Queen, I am thy servant. I kneel before Your Majesty as a loyal subject and devoted brother."

Such a declaration was a bit too sentimental and informal for Louis' taste, but Elora drank it in. She gave the customary nod of acknowledgment to Philippe and he went back to his place.

Elora seemed even more pleased to see Christophe Morlaix coming before her. Her smile brightened and he returned her smile. "I wish you a long, happy life, Your Majesty."

The royal family and prominent nobles presented themselves to her similarly, but the rest of the court would later pledge their fidelity at the palace.

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Louis and she rose in unison, as King and Queen of France. As they walked down the aisle people were cheering from all directions. The doors opened to the square and they stood in front of the crowd. The people kneeled in silent reverie for a minute out of respect for their king and new queen. There was an open sleigh waiting for them.

After helping her up Louis pointed to the seat where sat a small chest. "Elora, let us give these good citizens something to be more joyful about." She gasped when she saw it was filled with silver coins. She gave him a look of pure astonishment.

Looking out into the crowd, she saw so many poor people with merry faces. They were probably all cold and hungry, yet they all had come with good will in their hearts to share in the happiness of their sovereigns. They truly deserved what Louis and she were about to bestow upon them.

She stood up in the open sleigh and all went quiet in the crowds. "Thank you so much for coming here on our happy day. You are all loyal, righteous people and because of your loyalty to God and country, His Majesty, King Louis and I would like to express our gratitude."

Both queen and king began to throw coins out into the crowd. When the chest was empty they sat back down and were taken back to the palace. Elora looked around, Louis and she were anything but alone; with groomsmen, footmen, and king's guard around them. "I can't believe that we just got married," she spoke in English.

"I cannot believe I have had you in my life for nine months now and we are just finally getting married. I wasted so much time in the beginning."

"I was just thinking about our first meeting today. We were in such different places then and so much has happened in such a short time."

"And now you are France's queen."

"More importantly you are my husband, now and forever. Louis, I love you so much." She then confirmed it with a kiss.

Arriving again at Louvre Palace, they went to get changed for the feast that would last for the rest of the evening. That night they were to leave for the country for their honeymoon, or as the French called it, _lune__de__miel_.

She went to her chambers where servants helped her undress and get into her gown for the feast. Not only did she have a more elegant wardrobe, she now had at her disposal her choice of the crown jewels. She wore diamonds and rubies to complement her sapphire blue gown with a golden fleur-de-lis embroidered pattern.

Louis came to her room just as Suzanne finished clipping her necklace on. "Greetings, my darling wife," came his deep voice.

"Oh Louis, I don't think I'll ever tire of you saying such things!" She skipped over to him and kissed him passionately.

"If you continue this way we will not be making it downstairs for our festivities."

She giggled, fully aware of what he was eluding to. They left for the feast holding hands.

When the king and queen entered, the feast was all ready in full swing. Elora made her way straight to the buffet tables. The table was full of fish pates, rabbit roulettes, chicken quenelles, trout mousseline, soufflés, goose, venison, and crepes. For desserts there were puff pastries, génoise and biscuits, truffles, and meringues. She intended to try it all. The food tasted so good, for she really had not eaten much for days. She had fasted to ensure she would still fit into her wedding gown.

Louis approached her from behind as she was just finishing an éclair. "Elora, I must introduce you to an acquaintance of mine, the ambassador from Algiers. He has expressed a wish to dance with you."

A servant swiftly took away the plate that she held, leaving her only to lick her fingers. Before she had time to swallow and ask the location of Algiers Louis twirled her about and led her across the room. She was suddenly face to face with Sameer Mendak! Drawing in a sharp breath, she nearly screamed.

Standing only feet away from her was the man who made her into a slave. He was garbed from head to toe in red and gold outfit from his land. He looked so strange among the other guests, like a character who just popped out of the Arabian Nights story. He must have been here at the palace for a good two hours. How could she not have spotted him, especially in that get-up?

Elora accustomed herself to his presence as quickly as she could. She prayed Louis did not notice the shock on her face. She turned her head casually to look at him, but his eyes had not been on her the past few seconds.

"Your Royal Majesty," Sameer spoke to her. "It is an honor to _finally_ meet you. I am grateful the king has granted me a dance with his fair bride."

"Lord Mendak, it would please me greatly to dance the next with you." She hoped her answer did not sound as artificial as it was.

"Why Elora," Louis interrupted. "How did you know His Excellency's name?"

_Oh,__shit!_ "Umm…Thérèse pointed him out to me earlier because of his unique outfit."

They had been married only a few hours and she was already lying to him. She did not deserve a husband like Louis. He completely trusted her explanation. He never thought she would be hiding anything from him. She was feeling a great lump of guilt at that moment.

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Sameer took her hand and led her to the dance floor, anxious to get away from the king and speak with her alone. Elora was indeed at the peak of her beauty this day, in all her glory. She deserved no less than a king for a husband.

He knew she would not turn him in. Even though she had very cunningly escaped his power he suspected a sort a truce had been settled between them. This is why she never condemned him. She was simply a good soul who did not want to cause anyone suffering, lucky for him.

"Sameer, what the hell are you doing here?" Her voice came full of anger as soon as they were out of the king's earshot. "When I left you were leaving to go to back to your country."

"There was an alteration in my state of affairs; besides your husband invited me to your wedding."

"It's great that I'm just finding out you're an ambassador, Lord Mendak! You should have a higher regard for your appointment. Kidnapping is not in your job description, I think. I'm sure your king wouldn't be too happy to hear a report of your activities."

"What good would it have done telling you? It was a terrible thing you did, running off without a single goodbye. I was most displeased."

"You should not have come, Sameer. You are not welcome here. If Louis knew it was you who held me captive he would certainly kill you where you stand. You should feel blessed I have not told him about you yet."

"And why have you not?"

"Because…the idea of contributing in ending a person's life disgusts me. I could not do it to my worst enemy and you are not he."

She did have feelings for him after all! "I am in love with you," he confessed desperately, unable to hold it in.

"And you chose the day of my wedding to come and tell me this? I _am_ married. Louis is the man I _chose_ to be my husband. I married him not out of obligation or ambition, but out of love."

"You allowed me to kiss you. You must have felt something for me."

"I may have allowed it, but it meant nothing. Don't you see I was leading you into a false sense of security? You already have two wives to whom you can give your heart and that is already one girl too many as it is. I would just be an addition to your collection. Now that we've had this conversation I know you will be able to move on from this infatuation.–The dance is ending. I am no longer obligated to talk with you. I am walking away now, please do not follow me and make a scene. Goodbye, Sameer Mendak."

She gave a nod of the head and picking up her heavy skirts left him. This was not the exact idea he had going through his mind of what he would do and say if he ever met Elora Roux again. He had imagined a dream and what he saw this past hour was a dreadful reality he did not want to know. She was part of this world not his. Her French attire suited her air all too well. The manner in which she embraced friends was open and liberating. Her conversation was stimulating, just from watching her from across the room. She stood eating, filling her mouth too full out of hunger, without caring about how others view her or about her slender figure. None of this would be suitable for his wife living in Algiers, yet it worked so well for her here.

He had not visited Versailles' court for many weeks and had not partaken in any of the festivities in months. His political conversations with King Louis were stimulating and at times heated, but other than the time they spent together in official duties they did not speak much of anything else. There was nothing in common to speak about. Now there was though, they were both in love with the same woman. Yet he could hardly believe King Louis could truly love one woman so faithfully. King Louis was surely only pretending to some degree to be so much in love with her.

Today, immediately when he arrived, he had purposely sought out the Marquis de Seignelay to gain an audience with the king. While he waited he observed the king with Elora. They held hands as they talked in groups together, when they danced they only had eyes for each other, when they were alone their discussions were animated and bursting with the love of being with one another. Their adoring glances were what most irritated him. The king would caress her cheek or she would lay her head against his shoulder; it sickened him. His conclusion was King Louis did truly love her and Sameer had merely made a fool of himself coming today. Elora Roux was forever lost to him now; there was really no point in staying any longer. He prepared to leave, bidding farewell to the necessary persons.

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Philippe had Lady Thérèse Morlaix on his arm preparing to dance when he took notice of Sameer Mendak across the room. He was outraged to see him present at this affair. He had been confident he had fled the country by now. Before Philippe could attempt to escape the company on his arm Louis was guiding Elora in that man's path. Unexpectedly, she handled such a direct and sudden meeting with a calm demeanor. As the minutes waned on and they seemed to be pleasantly conversing Philippe realized she had no intention of turning Mendak over to Louis. He could not bear to see that man, whose hands had done such foul things to Elora, take her in his arms for a dance. He could not imagine how mortified Elora must have been feeling at that moment, forced to smile and be congenial in his presence.

Through the dance Philippe severely neglected his dear cousin by means of conversation. Thérèse was sweet as ever when he kissed her hand and bid her adieu. He hurried over to Sameer Mendak and discreetly pulled him into the nearest alcove, securing the curtain closed behind him.

"What act of daring do you presume coming here today?"

Sameer pulled his arm free of Philippe's grasp. "I come by express invitation of the king."

"I financed the fare for you and your household to return to Algiers long ago. You're ship should have sailed by now."

"My plans changed. I have new motives for remaining in France."

"It would not be because of a certain red-haired woman?"

Just then someone came barreling through the curtains and collided with Philippe, startling him beyond compare. His first thought being it was a courtier who had simply consumed too much wine, but instead it was the very sober Elora Roux.

"Your Majesty!" began Lord Mendak anxiously. "I did not think you wished to continue speaking with me. His highness was only–"

"Stuff it, Sameer!" She looked at Mendak only briefly before focusing her attention on him. "Planning another murder or another kidnapping?" she accused Philippe more than questioned.

"No, Elora, nothing of the sort!" Philippe defended.

Sameer appeared shocked. "You know of his part in it?"

"Of course, I'm not stupid. You think I wouldn't figure it out."

Philippe pushed him away from her and questioned, "Why do you allow him in your presence after what he has done to you?"

"Well, what do you expect me to do?"

"Expose him of course!" He stomped closer to Lord Mendak, rudely talking in his face. "I had to endure my brother's wrath, why should this man, who is equally guilty, escape unpunished?"

"Holding the queen captive was not part of the arrangement, Prince," argued Sameer.

"She was not a queen then!"

Elora pushed them apart. "Well, I'm a queen now and I command you to leave Sameer Mendak out of this.–I'm in agreement with Sameer. He was not the one who set it up and let me get kidnapped."

Philippe snapped his head toward her. Though he was agitated he could see distress in her eyes. "But Elora," he began softly, "I saw with my own eyes how harshly he beat you." He could hardly believe he had to remind her of the tortures she suffered at that infidel's hands.

She seemed to find it difficult to look at Lord Mendak after that reminder, yet she still took his side. "Yes that was terrible of him to do that to me, but he could have raped and killed me, yet he didn't. At least he is not of a vindictive nature…"

"Like me," Philippe finished, huffing out his frustration.

"You said it, not me."

"Thank you, Elora." Lord Mendak said quietly.

"Oh shut up, Sameer. Don't think I'm not still mad at you.–Philippe, you are my brother and I care for you. Let's not bring up the past; it would only cause everyone more pain, especially me." Elora held both his hands. "Please Brother, do this for me, as a wedding gift."

"Very well, as you wish."

"Good. I'll go first." She pleasingly tapped his hand and left the alcove.

Lord Mendak stepped forward. "What a woman," he sighed.

"Indeed. There is none like her.–You lucked out for now, Mendak, but when the day comes that you are no longer under the queen's protection, you had best make yourself scarce."

Philippe could not let Elora leave with that. He followed after her. "Your Majesty," he said with a smirk when he caught up with her. "I wanted you to have your wedding gift. It is not the most elaborate, but I think it will suit you well."

He pulled out a small case containing a square, pink diamond brooch bordered with black pearls. It was modest and elegant looking, not gaudy like the majority of her jewelry.

She thanked him as she pinned it on her bodice. She allowed him to kiss her hand. He was so grateful she accepted it. He wanted to speak more with her, but Louis was quick to usurp her company.

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Louis had lost sight of Elora. He had promised himself they would not be parted once today, but he was finding their separation at times could not be helped. Finally he saw his wife talking with his brother, which worried him instantly. He nearly fainted when Philippe dared further to publicly present her with a gift. Louis shuttered to think what was going through the on looking courtier's minds at that moment. He was unsure whether his interference would make the already awkward situation worse.

Elora proceeded to not only accept the gift offered, but to further embarrass him by putting it on without hesitation. His feet moved swiftly toward her now, hoping to diffuse the moment those two were having.

"How lovely, Elora!" he stated, touching the garish brooch. "Of course, you make any jewel more exquisite by wearing it.–You consideration for your sister-in-law on her wedding day is commendable, Philippe. I shall _commend_ you more about this later. Now I fear I must steal her away from you for this next dance."

Taking Elora's arm he guided her toward the dance floor. "Louis, loosen your grip; you're hurting me."

He looked at her, doing as she asked and felt ashamed. "Forgive me, my love. It was Philippe who got me riled. He should know better than to be so obvious."

"Did we do something wrong?" She seemed genuinely puzzled.

"No my love, you are faultless. It is Philippe I must speak to about his behavior."

"So I shouldn't have accepted it?"

"No, you were right to take it. It is Philippe who should never have presented it to you to begin with."

"Don't be too hard on him, Louis. He was just being thoughtful."

He wished that was all it was, but with Philippe everything always had a double meaning. This was him trying to dishonor the king.

As royal bride and groom they received hundreds upon hundreds of gifts, which filled up several rooms; gifts of jewelry, statues, cloth, cutlery, furniture, tea sets, dinnerware, paintings, candleholders, and figurines. They would take the time to inspect them after the honeymoon.

At nine o'clock in the evening they excused themselves from the party. They parted again to go to their chambers to be dressed in their traveling clothes. He did not like having to leave the chateau at this time of night. Traveling throughout the night was never pleasant and it was especially disagreeable since it was their wedding night. The only comfort he had was Elora's reassuring words. _They__would__be__there__soon.__They__had__waited__this__long,__what__was__a__few__more__hours?__They__would__have__the__rest__of__their__lives__to__sleep__with__each__other,__night__after__night__after__night._

Their honeymoon was going to be spent at Château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye. There was a big to-do when they left and entered the carriage, but that would be the last of that for a fortnight. Elora had begged him not to allow any courtiers to come along with them on their honeymoon and he conceded, though his favored courtiers were disappointed.

Elora was absolutely exhausted; whenever she rested her head on his shoulder as she did that was sure sign. Thereupon she soon fell asleep. She was in and out most of the night, but he received not one bit of sleep.

Once they reached the chateau it was well past sunrise. Louis felt the strain of the sleepless night, yet did his best to hide it, hoping Elora would be in the temperament to consummate their marriage. Unfortunately she could barely keep her eyes open while walking from the carriage to her bed. When he entered Elora's chamber he was praying for a proper greeting from his wife, but all he received was his slumbering bride. She had not even bothered unpin her hair or change attire. She slept soundly in her chemise and pink stockings. He slipped into bed next to her, feeling the soft warmth of Elora next to him. He would not dare wake her, even though he yearned to.

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Elora woke to the bright afternoon, with the sun shining through the slit in the curtains. She had slept the day away. Then she remembered she was married. She just slept through her honeymoon night! Louis must have been so disappointed in her. He was sleeping like a log beside her. When she woke him she knew what would come next. She slowly got out bed, careful not to wake him. She tiptoed across the room and out the doors.

Suzanne was awaiting her in the next room with a hot bath. She dismissed her for the day. As she washed she kept thinking how amazing it was that she was married and a made a queen all in one day.

Before she had a chance to get out of the tub she heard a knock at the door and it began to creak open slowly. Louis' figure came into view. Her immediate reaction was to cover herself with her hands and tighten her legs together, though it was silly since she was now a married woman. Recollecting herself, she relaxed a little, but still remained in the same position.

"Did I wake you?" she asked softly.

"Yes, your love called out to me, waking me from sleep, bidding me to you."

Louis soon stood above her. She could see him striving to see through the soapy surface water to catch a glimpse of her body. His eyes caught hers and she immediately lowered her gaze. She was so embarrassed with herself being so shy with Louis. He shifted to leave the room, obviously sensing her anxiety.

"Louis, wait," she implored softly. He stopped, but did not turn back to look at her again. She fought with her feelings for a moment and concluded now was as good a time as any to topple the walls of Jericho. "Come back to me." He once again stood above her. Taking a deep breath, Elora smiled held out her hand. "Would you mind?"

He tipped his head with a playful smile. "Not at all, your royal highness."

Louis reached out to help her stand and step out of the tub. He took the soft towel she picked up and began to dry her off. She was enjoying the attention. No one had ever seen her so naked, but it being Louis it did not seem so important. She thought she would have acted more levelheaded, but as Louis' hands moved over every inch of her body she began to lose herself in delight. She could see through his long nightshirt this was already enough to arouse him. He pulled her close to him and kissed her most passionately. He then scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bedchamber, and set her down beside the bed.

His kisses were intoxicating. She pulled away, catching her breath. "Louis wait…I was going to prepare…I mean, I was going put on–"

He cut her off, "Never mind about that. You are perfect as you are. I cannot wait any longer." His words muffled as he kissed her once again, pulling her even closer. He eased her down to the mattress and he was practically on top of her.

He brushed his hand across the back of her neck, pushing away her curls to kiss her. "My love…my bride…my darling Elora, we have waited a long time for this."

"Louis, thank you. This is the way God wished it to be and it will be all the more sweet."

He could feel her trembling beneath him. He caressed her cheek to reassure her. "You are not at all nervous?"

"Never with you, Louis. Never with you…"

**ooOoo**

**Dear Readers,**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 35! Well, everyone has been waiting for the wedding and now Elora & Louis are finally married! I hope I surprised you with Sameer popping up at the wedding feast!**

**Will update soon! Thank you for your continued support and all your encouraging words. As always, I appreciate feedback! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**God bless, **

**L.B. Tempia**


	36. Chapter 36

27

CHAPTER 36

As they were just finishing an early supper Louis signaled for a servant. She had thought they were going to see a small musical performance down the hall, but Louis seemed to have something else on his mind. In came a page carrying a small, wooden box. Louis took it from him and kneeled beside where she sat.

"I had it commissioned with the royal jeweler months ago after you said you wanted it. Though it was the strangest idea I ever heard at the card table, I found it quite endearing." Inside was a single gold louis coin hanging from a delicate, gold chain.

"Oh, Louis, this is beautiful! Thank you. I can't believe you remembered. It really is the perfect way to keep you with me always." Some girls had a picture of their husbands in their wallet or as the background of their phone, but she got her husband's face stamped on a gold coin. This was the coolest marriage ever.

He took her hand as they walked from the dining room. The performance was only an hour long and they could not be more anxious to return to their room for the night. The servants were dismissed before they even stepped into the bedroom. They were quite capable of ripping off each other's clothes without any assistance.

Tumbling into bed, between kisses, Louis asked, "Are you going to give me a lot of babies?"

She sat frozen in thought, sitting on his stomach. _Children_ had been mentioned, but _babies_ were something far more shocking. She was changing the future of the world every minute she was in this century. Bearing this country an heir to the throne would _drastically_ change the future. For better or worse she did not know.

Looking at it on a positive note, Louis and she were married. It was only natural to have babies next. If she was going to be queen she had to understand that she was the single hope for the future of France. Besides, if she were not meant to change the future, then God would never have sent her to the past.

"My love," she began, "I will give you as many babies as you want of me."

"I would be happy with six or seven."

She could not stop her eyes from widening; that was certainly a big number to have without a single epidural. "Well…sure, I guess."

His head cocked to the side. "But then I am not quite sure. Too many children can pose a burden on their parents if they are not equally desired. I, myself, find multiple children quite tiresome. Elora, you know me the best, how many children would I like?"

"Louis, I don't think God could have given me a better gift than you." She took the time to kiss him, as he rolled her beneath him. "You are the best thing to ever come into my life. As to children…three, maybe four.–Yet, given the way I'm feeling right now with you on top of me and thinking about the lifetime of nights we have to spend together, we might have kids enough to start our own baseball team."

"Elora, I do not fully comprehend your phrasing, but I understand enough."

ooOoo

Colbert was glad the royal honeymoon lasted only a fortnight, then it was back to Versailles. He had handled all affairs of state during that brief time. The royal couple could not have looked happier or more refreshed upon their return. He liked his queen well enough, but it was now his job to help guide her as he did for the king for so many years.

The first night of their return he needed to speak with the king about an urgent matter of state. The Belgians were threatening to break their treaty because of a land dispute. There was nothing he liked less than to have to get between the king and the Minister of War. The Belgians were frequently quarreling about this same occurrence. This was not so much of high concern, but his king needed to know immediately.

Colbert went to see him in the queen's chambers, but the guard at her door said the king was not there, that he was in his own chamber. So, he thought, the king must be bored with the queen already to not be in her bed. He had not expected King Louis to tire of her so quickly; they had not even been married a month. He had warned the king about the likelihood of this happening.

If Louis did not take the queen regularly how would he ever get her with child? He would now have to remind the king about his duty to the queen. Louis should at least know his royal duty to bed her habitually until she was fattening with the heir to the throne. He marched himself straight for the king's bedchamber. He knocked at the door, stated his name, and heard King Louis chuckle. A brief moment later he heard the king say he could enter.

What he saw when he entered the room forced him to gasp with shock and embarrassment. King Louis was standing quite naked before him with a great grin on his face. Beside him was Queen Elora, with only a sheet clumsily wrapped around her naked body.

"Your…majesties…I…" He was speechless for the first time in his life.

"Colbert, Elora and I were just discussing matters of state."

The queen held in a giggle as she moved a pillow in front of the king's fully erected male member.

He forgot to bow as he ran from the room. As the door closed he could hear them break into laughter. Protocol was for the king to go the queen's bed when he felt the urge to. It was clearly explained to her that it was inappropriate for her to go to the king. She was willfully disobeying protocol. Why did Louis not follow this protocol, he knew better? He would have to speak to them both tomorrow on the matter, but he doubted his input would have any bearing on how they decided to spend their nights together.

ooOoo

Elora was contemplating her plans for France. Since she was now queen she could really make a difference. But should she make a difference? She would surely change the future. It was not like she was attempting to create penicillin three-hundred years ahead of schedule; though this thought kept coming to her. Even small changes could have a massive effect on the future. Ever since she came to France she felt bound like a dog on a leash, unable to let herself be fully free. If she were she might make changes with the effect of herself not even being born or something similarly terrifying. She had worried about this for too long and she was tired in living in fear of the future. She had to think about what was best for the present.

When she returned home to Versailles as queen she saw and experienced the celestial city as she never had before. This improved viewpoint was agreeable, even though things were not as perfect as she would have liked. She enjoyed the familiar friendly faces she knew. The friends she had before she became queen were the only true friends she really had here. She was befriended by so many now, who only pretended to like her. The company she kept was enjoyable enough, but she still preferred Chris or Thérèse or even just sitting with Suzanne beside her.

Philippe was not going to be asked back to Versailles until the summer. He would have to remain secluded in the country until then. It did make her feel more comfortable not having him around, but there were brief moments when she missed him.

Thérèse was one of her ladies maids, which made the idea of ten members of nobility doing everything for her somewhat bearable. If she was not by Louis' side, she was paired up with either Thérèse or Suzanne the majority of her free time.

Affairs of state were so grueling. There were meetings, parties, afternoon teas, and other related social events. She received so many invitations to everything imaginable. By sending proxies she did not have to attend all, which she was prone to do more often than not. For pleasure, the royal couple attended cavalry tournaments, equestrian displays, concerts, and plays.

Louis and she could not spend one night apart. She loved his attention, for he was an attentive husband. She could never imagine a better marriage; delight ruled the day and love the night.

In his room one night, after they had just made love, Louis decided to speak to her about something that at one time or another had troubled him.

"Elora, when the time comes that we are both in heaven we shall be together. There was a time when I feared we would not meet in the hereafter, but now you are queen, by right under God, our eternity is certain."

She could not imagine a stranger conversation to be having, but she went with it. "Why would being queen have anything to do with my place in heaven? All of God's children a created equal."

"But not all end equal. Both you and I are ordained by God. We have been chosen to sacrifice our lives to maintain God's justice in this realm. Therefore it is certain we will be rewarded in heaven."

"Let me get this straight, Louis. This crown," she motioned to the imaginary one on her head, "guarantees me a spot in heaven?" Louis nodded. That was sort of a cheat. "Shouldn't it be what I do with this crown that determines whether I go to heaven or hell?"

"Elora," he took a breath. "Let us not quarrel. We are destined for each other. God would never change his mind."

She got out of bed to warm herself by the fire. He followed her. As he saw her shiver he took her nightgown and robe off the nearby chair and began to dress her.

"Elora, there is something else that has been weighing on my mind.–If by chance, you do go back to the twenty-first century, I would like to know conditions of how you, the Queen of France, will be living?"

"Back home, no one would recognize me as a queen. I would live comfortably as I always lived, without all the grandeur you have indulged me with here."

"That is precisely what I thought."

Her eyebrow lifted with suspicion. What exactly was he planning? Louis took her by the hand and walked to the wall to left of the bed. He pointed to a gilded flower, which had a slightly different engraving on it than all the rest along the wall. Louis pushed it in and as he did a part of the wall opened. It was a door!

"Oh my God!"

Louis chuckled, "I thought you would like that."

"Who knows about this?"

"Only the architect and myself and now you."

Holding a candelabrum he led her into the dark, secret hall. The hall was narrow yet there was ample room to walk through. The air in the halls was somewhat smoky to breathe, but it was not enough to irritate the senses.

They passed a small spiral staircase. "This leads to the upper chambers," he added.

Louis brought her deep within the passage to what looked like a dead end. He pulled out a stone on the side wall. He reached his hand in and turned a latch. Immediately the end wall opened to reveal a small room.

"Neat!" Elora whispered.

"What do you use it for?"

"Nothing, as of yet. We are the only ones who know this room exists. You must be sure to tell no one. I shall hide here a small, but precious treasure if it comes to that. You shall never have to want for anything in your life, no matter what comes. You shall always have the means to live like a queen as you rightly deserve."

"Louis, your generosity overwhelms me. But what would my parents think of my going on a trip to France and coming home with a handful of antique, gold coins? How could I possibly explain my sudden wealth?"

"Will you not tell your family the truth of it?"

"Yeah and then I'll be locked away in a padded cell with a thorazine drip and electro-shock therapy."

"What do you mean?" His tone was concerned.

"They'd never believe me. They'd definitely think I'd gone insane.–Louis, things are very different in the future. It is much easier to prove I am from the future than to prove I lived in the past."

"If I could believe you, then your family would certainly. I am certain of it."

"Perhaps they would, but I will never have to worry about that because I'm not going anywhere. I am sure I will never have cause to come back to this room again." She hugged him. "I really hope I don't."

He kissed her, as if to seal certainty to such a declaration. "As do I, my love."

ooOoo

The days passed, as they always do. Louis and she were in a meeting with the ambassador from England when a page approached Louis with an express letter. As Louis read the note his expression grew more and more grave. When he said nothing to her plea to know what it said she knew it must be bad news. She hoped it did not mean war.

He finally handed the note to her with a concerned stare. She grabbed the note and quickly read that Prince Philippe's country chateau had burned to the ground last night. Philippe could not escape the fire, which spread rapidly. He had been killed!

Her hand slapped as it went to her mouth. "No!" A sudden feeling of despair came upon her. It was like a velvet drape had fallen over her eyes for a moment.

Louis rose from his throne when she did. She took his arm with need and decision. "Take me to my chambers, Louis." As they cleared from the great hall and walked toward her room, they had some degree of solitude. "How could this have happened? Couldn't something have been done? Isn't it possible he could have escaped the fire?"

"Elora, I am sorry you are in such a state. Nothing could have been done to prevent this. He could not have escaped."

In the night she had a nightmare about Philippe's death. _She had been in Philippe's house sleeping. As she woke to the smell of smoke she ran outside to safety. She could see from where she was Philippe was still inside the house; banging against the window, trying to escape the fiery flames. He was calling out to her, begging, but she could not hear his words. She could not help him. By some unseen presence, she was forced to stand by and observe the destruction. She just watched as the fire consumed the house and her brother-in-law. _

Louis was sleeping peacefully beside her when she woke gasping for breath as if she had been the one suffocated by the smoke. She laid in the cold, dark bed staring at Louis. She could not fall back asleep the rest of the night.

The next day the funeral commenced. Philippe's remains were sealed in an elegant black casket. They walked behind the carriage to the church in the town. The mass was brief and those who attended were rather unaffected.

Louis wore black, which was the proper attire, but she could see no sign of grief. He had not yet shed a tear that she had seen. It seemed she felt more remorse than even Louis did. She took into understanding that he did not get along with Philippe. Most fights in the recent months between the two were started because of her. Yet this could be no excuse for not mourning the loss of a brother.

When she spoke to him about Philippe he expressed no hint of regret or a wish that they had gotten along better. He did not reminisce about their childhood. Any sign other than his basic dispassionate manner about his brother would have satisfied her. After the funeral, he acted as he did before Philippe's death.

Louis wanted her to go hunting with him the next day, but she fervently declined. She had no interest in viewing or participating in a hunt, especially not the way she was feeling. He still wanted her to join him because he would likely be staying overnight at the lodge and he did not want to leave her alone at the chateau. He knew very well she would not be alone. She did not particularly want to spend the night without him either, but it would just be for one night, so she encouraged him to go without her and clear his mind.

He left the next day with little encouragement. She summed up Louis' sudden need to hunt as a subconscious means of distraction; perhaps a way to avoid coping with Philippe's death. She hated being left alone while she was feeling so blue, but such was life.

That night she woke to Louis coming in her bedroom. She had not been expecting him to come home so soon. He did not get into bed or say anything to her; he just stood beside the bed holding a candle.

"Louis, tell me about it tomorrow. Just get into bed."

Then Elora heard his breathing and _knew _he was not Louis. Her heart began to pound so hard that was all she could hear. She could not even take a breath. She did not want to be kidnapped again. Fear persuaded her to avoid looking up. Her eyes were fearfully curious though. She finally looked up to see _Philippe_!

"Oh my God!" Elora scrambled to the other side of the bed. "A ghost?"

"Elora, please do not scream. Do not be afraid…I'm alive."

"No, you can't be. We were told you were dead. We had your funeral. Someone would have told me if you were still alive."

Philippe's image did not fade away though. Slowly, she walked over to him and put her hand on his warm, sturdy chest. _He was alive!_ "But you're dead. This must be a dream. My dreams have been blackened by image of your ghost.–Please tell me this isn't a dream!" She gripped his shirt in desperate agitation.

"You're not dreaming. I am alive, Elora." He tapped her hand with his, as a means to comfort her anxiety, but her heart was beating too quickly for that.

"Oh, Philippe." Elora hugged him. "I knew you would have escaped the fire.–Does Louis know?" she asked eagerly. Perhaps that was why he was not mourning properly.

"No, he does not and I wish you would let it remain that way. No one must know. I am not safe."

"Why should I keep it a secret? Why do you say you're not safe? You didn't fake your own death did you? What are you up to now?"

She stepped back from him, remembering he was the same Philippe who sent her off to die from Chartres. She lit another candle and put on her robe.

"You will not believe me," came his reply.

"Come sit down by the fire and tell me everything."

"All right.–It was late at night and I could not sleep. I was taking a walk in the west garden. With a blink of an eye the entire chateau was up in flames. No one was able to get out.–Elora, the fire was no accident. It was set with malicious intent by someone we know." He took a breath and she noticed he was trembling. He looked so scared. "I saw the king's guards fleeing the scene. "

She stood and drew toward the window. The room was suddenly stifling and she found it hard to breathe. She was calling into question everything she knew about. Was Philippe really insinuating Louis was in some way responsible for the fire? It would explain Louis' strange behavior, but to even look down that road was ridiculous. If he were going to kill Philippe he would have done so right after he found out he was responsible for her kidnapping. Philippe must have saw wrong in the darkness.

"Louis is not capable of that. I know him; he would never kill anyone. You must be mistaken, Philippe."

"I am not." He shook his head resolutely.

Though he seemed rather certain, she was not quite so convinced. "If you believe Louis was trying to kill you why would you come back here?"

"To seek you out. I knew you would be the only one to protect my life."

"So you want me to keep my husband from trying to kill you?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, I tell you Louis wants me dead.–I beg you not to tell him I'm alive."

She could not promise that. "I cannot keep such a secret, especially from Louis."

"What if I run away from here tonight? You will have no way of proving it."

"I would still tell him. My word would be proof enough. You should tell him though."

"What, so he can finish the job?"

"So he can have his only brother back. I promise you I will not let him harm you."

"With you on my side he would not dare. You give me no choice. I will tell him."

She nodded her head in satisfaction. "So where were you planning on staying tonight?" He only tipped his head and looked about the room in response to her question. She huffed, not liking what she was about to say. "You may stay here for tonight_ only_. I will see Louis in the morning when he returns. I shall not tell him you are alive _yet_. I will leave that to you.-Just make sure you're out of sight when the servants enter in the morning," Elora said as she threw him a pillow, closed the curtain around her bed, and climbed in.

"By the way, how did you get in? There are guards at my door."

"I waited until they fell asleep."

Lovely! Those guards really did a lot of good being there. She was not sure she was doing the right thing letting him stay, but it would only be for a few hours and he would tell Louis tomorrow.

The next morning she went to speak with Louis. She did not know how to question her husband for murder, but she had to know. She greeted Louis, giving him a quick kiss upon the mouth. They left the room to take a walk about the chateau.

"I have reason to believe the fire that killed Philippe was caused intentionally," she said hesitantly.

"What reason?" Louis asked warily as he turned to his wife.

"I was told someone saw men on horseback riding away from the scene."

"Who told you this?" he pressed.

She thought he looked worried or was it just curiosity? "Do you have any idea who those men were? You can tell me, Louis, I won't be mad."

"I haven't any idea who they were. Philippe had many enemies."

She was almost afraid to ask, "Were you one of his enemies?"

"Elora, he was my brother."

"Answer the question, Louis."

"No, I was not his enemy, even though he alleged so much of me."

She believed Louis. She _had_ to; he was her husband. Philippe had to have been mistaken. Louis could never have done what he was accused of. It was dark that night, how could he possibly identify men in uniform at a distance? It was not as if he could read their coat of arms at a hundred feet away.

"Louis, what would you do if Philippe were alive?"

"I would take him in my arms and tell him never to leave here again."

"Truly!–If he were to walk in this room this very day you would welcome him?"

"Of course. Do you feel better now, my love?"

"Yes, much. Louis, come with me." Elora nearly dragged him back to her chambers with her. They went into her bedchamber and she began to look for Philippe. She searched behind the curtains, in her wardrobe, and under her bed but found no one. She wondered where Philippe had slinked off to.

"Where are you?" she questioned, but Philippe did not answer.

"I am right here," Louis said as he pulled her into his arms. He seemed to think she brought him in here for a quickie.

"No, Louis we can't." She broke away from his kisses.

"Why ever not?"

_Because your dead brother may be hiding in this room_, she wanted to say.

He touched her cheek and said softly, "We have not been intimate since…"

"Since the news of Philippe's death." She had not noticed until now, but he was right.

"I have missed you." Louis said earnestly, with sad eyes that penetrated her heart.

She looked about the room once more. There was nowhere else he could really be hiding that she had not checked. The likelihood of him still being there and not saying anything was slim. She finally nodded her head and rolled into bed with Louis.

ooOoo

Philippe moved through the servant's passages until coming to Elora's secret salon up in the attics. Judging by its condition she had not been there for some time. Now as royalty she must have been finding it hard to sneak away. He did not like hiding in the queen's chambers alone. He still felt the need to remain elusive, which is why he snuck out shortly after Elora left this morning.

He decided he would make his appearance this evening. Elora did not want a public scene, but he felt it was necessary. Louis was unpredictable and now that he wanted his blood, there was no telling what he would do if it was only he that gained knowledge of his living.

He knew Elora would find him when she had a moment to think about it and behold she appeared at lunch time with food. He could not remember the last time he had eaten. She had a great deal of food folded in a handkerchief and a bottle of wine under her arm.

Though she was immaculate, without a hair out of place, there was certainly a warm glow in her cheeks that had not been there this morning. He made mention of it, but she only laughed it off not giving him any answer.

She told him she had brought Louis back to her room to see him, but was disappointed to find he was not there.

"You should not have done that. I'm glad I was not there. I told you I would tell him, but I will do it my way."

"Okay, but do it soon because I don't want to have to keep sneaking you food. It's killing me keeping this from Louis."

ooOoo

After dinner Louis sat with his queen sat on their thrones before the dancing began.

"Elora, what were you going to tell me this morning?"

"Oh, nothing. Well, it's not nothing, but I can't tell you now. It is good news though." Elora kissed him on the cheek.

He jumped off his seat and was embracing her in that same breath. The words 'good news' were enough for him. He knew exactly what she was about to say. "Oh, Elora, is it that you think you have conceived?"

She released him from the embrace just enough to look into his eyes. "No, I'm not pregnant. This news is even better!"

What disappointment! He thought for sure she would be pregnant. She still wanted to tell him something, but he was still mourning the idea that they were not expecting a child. "I cannot imagine anything better than you with child."

If Elora replied he did not take notice. Louis was far too concerned with the sudden presence of a cloaked man entering the room. Without introduction the outlandish man quickly approached the dais where they stood. He swiftly pushed back the hood. Every soul in the hall gasped. Prince Philippe stared directly into Louis' eyes.

"A ghost!" Louis shuddered and drew back. What devilish business was this? Was Philippe still to haunt him even in death?

"A peculiar ghost I am, of flesh and blood," Philippe rasped.

"Elora, are you seeing this!"

"Yes, Louis, I see him. Though I wish he had not presented himself so recklessly."

"You knew?" he questioned; still quite distressed.

"Yes."

Philippe took another few steps toward them, as if he could not be more dramatic at that moment. He bowed to him and said, "I survived the fire, Brother."

Louis walked down to him slowly, knowing he had to, but despised the idea of it. "Thank the Almighty, for it is a miracle you are alive."

Louis embraced him. They were a family again. The room full of courtiers began to clap. He was not sure how happy he was at this revelation. Things had been peaceful with him dead. With Philippe dead he did not have to worry any longer about his threats or hostilities; especially toward his lovely Elora. Now his anxieties had returned. He would discuss with his advisors what was to be done with the prince. He would have to occupy him with something, now that he had returned to Versailles. He knew of the perfect diversion too. He would look into finding Philippe a wife.

ooOoo

Elora was a little worried about Louis. He was more shaken up than she thought he would be. This was what Philippe had wanted and she fed right into it, like a mouse to the cheese. He really was a manipulative stinker. He always got his way.

Louis would be joining her in her room in moments. She knew the first thing to do would be to hug him and apologize for not telling him of Philippe right away. He would never reproach her she was certain, but he still deserved an explanation.

He was announced and entered the chamber in less than a pleasant mood. "Louis, I…" His angry stare and rigid stance, caused her to hesitate. She moved closer to him to take his hands in hers, but he moved away from her touch. This did not bode well for her.

"Elora, I do not know where to begin. I never imagined you would be the one to put this marriage in jeopardy. You have dishonored me. Your concealment of Philippe's life was beneath you. You have proved deceitful and untrustworthy. How could you put me in this situation? I am your husband and king, yet at this moment I wish I were not.–What have you to say?"

She should have cried for forgiveness. She should have stopped him at every stabbing word that came out of his mouth. Louis had never said anything this cruel. Before this night he had idealized her. Now because of this, which really was not such a terrible thing as he was making it out to be, he tells her off. Even though her actions may have been erroneous, her intention had been to make everyone happy, but Louis refused to see it that way. He was making her out to be a conniving, sneaky wife.

"Incidentally, Elora, I suppose you were concealing my treasonous brother in your bedchamber. How long has that been happening? I saw the way he looked at you tonight and it was the look of a man whose lusts had finally been sated. Is there something else on your conscious you feel you need to share with me?"

This is what he had been leading up to, adultery. She began to shake her head slowly. Then looked at him through an angered brow she lunged at him with incredible speed, but he was ready for her. He grabbed her by both wrists and pushed her aside with force. This was not the Louis she knew. He actually pushed her! "You ass!" she screamed. She did not want him to see her cry, but she could not help it. The pain in her heart was devastating.

"So tell me your pathetic side of the story, Elora," he bellowed. "Make me regret these accusations. I want to hear some excuse for your behavior."

She took a deep breath, never feeling more hurt or furious. "Get out of my room!- Now!"

"Where do you expect me to sleep? In my chambers? Alone? If I go back to my chambers tonight I will not be alone. Fidelity is always something you demanded of me. All I ever asked of you was to be a trustworthy companion. You could not hold up your end, perhaps now I will follow your example."

"You can go to the kennels and sleep with your dogs for all I care! Just get out of my room!"

"No, I have made my decision. I will not be leaving this room tonight. You are my wife and will behave as such when and wherever I command."

She rolled her shoulders back, trying to control some semblance of her temper. "Not on your life!" He wanted to hurt her; well two could play at that game. Wounding Louis' pride was the easiest way to distress him. She removed her wedding rings and threw them at his feet.

His anger equaled hers by now. "I command you to pick those up."

"Oh really, well command this!" She flung a lit candelabrum at him. "Stay the night cause I'm not coming back!" she screamed as she ran out of the room.

The candelabrum hit him; she knew it! She hoped it left a mark! Maybe the wax got into his eyes and permanently blinded him or his robe caught on fire. She did not care to look back; she liked imagining the worst at the moment. She could have gone to Suzanne's chamber, but that was too close and Louis would think to look there. She was about to go to her secret room in the attics, but just could not imagine lying up there in the cold all night.

She thought of all the times he had been angry with her and he always recovered from such feelings very quickly. She had run around the chateau with the guards, she had let Philippe kiss her, she wrote up the prisoner's reports the wrong way, she talked back to him, she punched him on two occasions; all of this he let go. Now that they were married were things so different?

She had wanted to apologize, but he kept pointing fingers. He said he could not trust her now, she was always embarrassing him, and the worst thing, he accused her of being unfaithful to their vows. He practically spelled out that he thought she cheated on him with Philippe. She should not have let him stay in her room last night; she could see that now. She should have used protocol and summoned Colbert and the Bishop and had a letter sent to Louis at the lodge. She had just wanted Louis and Philippe to work things out peacefully.

She ran down the halls, until she was sure Louis was not following her. She took the long route just in case. She knocked on the door loudly until she heard movement within. Thérèse's maidservant opened the door.

"Your Majesty," she curtsied and made way for her.

Thérèse had already been in bed, but did not even bother to put a robe on before pulling her into a comforting embrace.

ooOoo

Early the next morning, Thérèse sent her servant to request an audience with her cousin, the king, before he held morning council. She waited in the main hall at eight o'clock; she had not woken so early in years. Elora had been so distraught last night she hoped after speaking to Louis the situation would not be as dire as Elora had made it seem.

The king was just finishing breakfast when she was presented to him. He had several red marks on his face, which he had tried to cover with powder and failed miserably. It did not look like Elora's fingernail marks, but the queen was certainly the culprit.

"Your majesty, thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I have known you all my life and regarded you as a brother. I have never asked you for anything, but now I find I must. Her majesty, the queen, came to me last night. I understand it is no business of mine, but she is in no condition to come speak to you herself."

"Her condition cannot possibly be as dreadful as mine.–Her ineptitude and her poor judgment has proved too much for me to bear."

"What has made you feel this way?"

"My dear, Thérèse, you know Philippe had been a thorn in my side since we were all children. He practically kills Elora and she continues to consort with him. I know it is not love, but it still maddens me. She constantly takes things upon herself without thinking of my feelings. She always has to play the peacemaker. After what she did last night I could no longer keep it to myself. I had one too many drinks before entering her chambers, which led me to tell her these things. I demanded explanation, but she did not give me one. Cousin, I do not know how to mend this."

"Elora loves you and no one else. She is young and very inexperienced with life. She has a hard exterior which makes her seem so strong at times, but then at times like these, when her belly is exposed, I see how fragile she truly is. She was going to apologize before you accused her of infidelity, which is perhaps the only accusation that you could throw at her that she could not tolerate. You are in love with each other; it should not be too great a challenge to forgive each other. You must set this right before your troubles become known to the court."

ooOoo

Louis went in search of Elora. She was scheduled to sit with him at noon for the new comers at court to be presented. He could not wait three minutes, no matter three hours. Everywhere he looked he was informed he had just missed her and no one knew where she had gone off to. Lord Michaud said he saw her going out into the gardens, toward the canal. He searched for her for so long, but it had snowed the previous evening and his gardeners had neglected much of the property. It was barely three inches of powdery white snow, but he was not wearing the appropriate footwear for such an endeavor. He could barely feel his toes.

There were boot marks in the snow in all directions, so looking for her in that manner was of no help. He gave up and sat down on a bench in the Colonnade. The paths in the Colonnade were also not cleared of the snow. He looked in the direction where he had kissed Elora for the first time. How exciting that moment had been. The thrill of the moment when he found out she loved him as dearly as he did. How undiscovered their relationship had been up until that moment.

Though he had learned much since that first kiss he still did not completely know his wife. She said it was uncommon for girls to marry at nineteen in the future. Had he made a mistake marrying her? Perhaps she was too young for such a commitment.

Her reaction when she left him last night led him to think about his own actions. His words of chastisement hit her to the core. What had he done? Did Elora want to end their marriage over this? They could not divorce, though she probably thought she could. She could not just stop being queen, not in this century.

"I thought I might find you here," came Elora's voice from behind him.

He turned to see her standing some distance from him. Her face was serious and somewhat sad. He went to say something, but she stopped him as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Louis, please let me say this. You said your share last night...it's my turn now." She slowly began walking toward him. "You deserve an apology and not just for the wax burns on your face. I messed up; everything you said last night was true, except about me having an affair with Philippe. It doesn't matter what I thought or what my intentions were, I kept something very important from you and that's not something you do to your spouse. I thought everything was so perfect between us, nothing I could do would hurt you. I got careless, without knowing it. I love you so much…I need you…please don't stop being my husband. I need my best friend. I will do anything if you will only forgive me."

She went to her knees, burying her face in his lap. His heart softened. They had been searching for each other this morning, each with an apology in mind. He lifted her head and wiped away her tears with his handkerchief. Her eyes were always such a vivid green when she cried.

"What makes you say all of this, Elora?"

"I went to the church and prayed all morning about it. The Lord always heals my wounded heart and whispers to my soul when I am lost."

"You are my life, Elora." He fondled her chilled cheeks with his hands. "How can I not forgive you? You are the only thing I love in this whole world. I never meant to hurt you so badly. I was jealous and distraught. Please allow me to return these rings to your finger and promise me you will never again take them off." He slipped the glove off her left hand and slid the rings back on. He kissed her hand before they stood.

"Louis, I will die before taking these off.–Louis, I also swear never to hide anything from you again.–Since I'm being honest today, you should know Philippe snuck into my room the night before last. He practically scared me to death when I woke."

"So he was in your chambers," his voice went deep, as it always did when he spoke of his brother.

"Yes, but certainly not in my bed. He seemed truly afraid for his life. He said it was you who tried to kill him, but I think he is mistaken."

"His accusation does not surprise me, but as you say he was certainly mistaken."

"And maybe you'll see to it that Philippe can't sneak into my room again. I don't really want to be alone with him. After every conversation with him I feel somewhat manipulated."

"I will see to it personally.–Do not allow what I said yesterday to affect you. You are a good queen and you do have good judgment, just not where Philippe is concerned."

"Let's go inside. It's grown quite cold out here," Elora suggested. She held out her arm for his, completely bewitching him with her smile.

It was too cold of a day for most of the courtiers to venture outdoors for fresh air. He and Elora walked slowly, treasuring their solitude.

He chuckled to himself and Elora demanded to know what was so amusing. "I was just thinking about what you said last night. Did you really want me to sleep in the kennels?"

She laughed. "Well, you were acting like an arrogant puppy, so where else should I have suggested?"

"I can hardly believe my own daring saying such words. I've been afraid of your wrath since you threw the first punch the day we met, yet I still antagonized you."

"You had every right to be upset, but I did not expect you to be such an ass."

"I will never be so disrespectful of you, my wife, again."

"That is a promise I will expect you to keep." She kissed his cheek.

"I suppose I cannot ask you to promise never to strike me again?"

"No." she shook her head with a playful smile. "But you should not be afraid of me. I mean, 'what could a little woman like me do to a king?' You know?" How could she dare bring up his idiotic words from that first day they had together.

"Ha! Elora, if I knew then…"

"You would have done the same thing," she finished.

"That is assuredly the truth."

They laughed and went inside for some hot chocolate. It was as if they had never quarreled in the first place. Elora was a complete angel. He would have to make time to make a visit to the chapel and praise God once again for His good graces, primarily the gift of his wife.

**ooOoo**

**Dear Readers,**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 36! I always find this chapter rather exciting. I'm never quite sure if Louis was really behind the fire or not. I figure it's best to let you decide if he is capable of something so underhanded.**

**Will update soon! Thank you for your continued support and all your encouraging words. As always, I appreciate feedback! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**Merry Christmas, **

**L.B. Tempia**


	37. Chapter 37

23

CHAPTER 37

Thérèse and Cesaire's wedding was fast approaching. Thérèse had asked Elora if she could possibly be her matron of honor, since the wedding would be held in Versailles Chapel. She was thrilled to be asked and agreed immediately. Though it was not custom for the queen to be in such a subservient position, but Elora would have it no other way. She broke customs all the time.

She smiled when Louis surprised her with a new gown for the occasion. It was a lovely gray and pink gown, trimmed with ermine. The pink underskirt had a winter design and was sprinkled with small pink sapphires. Louis had also given her a pink sapphire necklace and dangly earrings. She had wondered if he would continue being so generous to her after they were married; now she knew.

When the wedding day came she was early to rise. She headed for the Morlaix's chambers. Thérèse was already awake, with her mother buzzing about ordering servants around for this and that. The bride was glowing in her happiness. Elora assisted the servant arranging Thérèse's hair by handing her the pearl pins. Her beautiful gown was light blue and white, heavily embroidered in an Italian design. Her veiled cap was resplendent. She thought the lacework was finer than hers had been. She looked just like the princess she was. Elora was so pleased she could call her family.

The bride's party walked down the halls to the chapel. Louis was there on a raised dais sitting on his golden throne. When the music began Elora hugged her and then fixed the lovely blue gown she had inadvertently crumpled.

The ceremony went off without a hitch and the celebration afterwards was full of merriment. Louis made a very moving speech, which could not have pleased Cesaire more. He was always one to crave the king's attention. They danced and danced through the night, even after the newlyweds had left Versailles.

The couple left for Cesaire's estate in the country that evening after the celebration. She hated losing Thérèse to the countryside, but she was happy she was finally married.

ooOoo

As queen, Elora could categorize her duties into three parts. The first were affairs of state, which involved summits and discourses. The second were social affairs with the high standing of France. She tried to send out proxies for the undesirable affairs. The third were proceedings for the people of France, which she enjoyed, but often made her feel exasperated. She loved reaching out to the impoverished. There were assemblies that she organized allowing the people discuss their thoughts for a better life. She helped in arranging food drives through all the major cities.

In February, there came word of a serious epidemic of pertussis that was spreading throughout Paris, mainly attacking children. Of course the French referred to it as _coqueluche_; in English-laymen's terms it was whooping cough.

Her heart was pulled to help these children. She knew she became aware of this breakout for a reason. God had just called her. She remembered her Uncle Jimmy who died of a heart attack at the Roux family cookout. He was only forty and she saw the life drain from his face as they waited for the ambulance to arrive. When he went unconscious everyone was panicking. No one there knew CPR; nobody did anything to help him. She loved him so much. He used to take her out to the movies every Friday night. Even when her brothers were old enough, it was still just the two of them. She was his favorite, she always knew, even though he never said it. Then he died. When the EMT's got there it was too late; they could not revive him. Her dear uncle was gone. She was ten years old and knew not how to help him. That was the day, no, the moment, she knew she wanted to become a doctor.

Somehow, over the past months, consumed in Louis' love she had tried to ignore her calling. She was now a queen, but she was a doctor at heart. She could not ignore the unspoken plea for help from her people. She had never felt so empowered with usefulness here.

The ideas on what could be done in the quarantined area consumed her thoughts. She had so many ideas come to her at once she could not focus her attention on anything else. She excused herself to her chambers, quickly skipping out early from afternoon assembly. She got a pile of paper at her desk and began to write.

She waited to speak to Louis until that night when she would be in the privacy of their chambers. She knew by now what was appropriate for the queen to speak in a public area and what conversation was meant for the bedchamber. She knew for certain what she was about to tell Louis would greatly upset him, but it did not discourage her. She was sure he would understand.

ooOoo

Louis walked to his bedchamber, fantasizing about what lovely nightdress his wife would be wearing tonight, knowing she would be anxiously awaiting him. Since their marriage she had designed her own sleepwear with the couturière, which she told him were the popular_ lingerie_ styles in her time. The doors were opened for him. He saw Elora lying on her stomach on the bed scribbling away on parchment. Her breasts were shamelessly protruding from her black, sleeveless, satin nightdress, which barely reached her knees, revealing her long, sleek legs.

She looked up almost immediately with a sparkling smile. She got off the bed and ran into his arms. There was little need for her to have gotten off the bed, for he would have her back there soon enough, but he still welcomed her embrace and soft kiss.

He took her by the hand and led her toward the bed, but she stopped after several steps. Her serious upward glance told him she had something important to speak about and it would certainly interrupt his plans for the night with her.

"Louis, you aren't going to be happy about this, but it's something I have to do. I've put in a lot of thought before speaking to you about it." She caressed his cheek. "I must go to Paris."

"But why? There is only sickness there now."

She nodded. "Which is exactly why I go."

Now realizing what Elora was saying, his protective disposition took control. "Looking after hundreds of peasants dying of _coqueluche _is not the same as caring for a king with a chest cold. Elora you are not a physician."

Not seeming to care about his opinion, she clasped his hand between hers. "I know that, but they need me. I can help."

"You are queen now and your place is by my side. I will not allow you to go to Paris and kill yourself!"

"Louis, I was vaccinated against pertussis when I was young. They did a titer on me just last year. I won't ever get it; I'm immune."

"I care not about your futuristic medicines. You cannot go. I will not chance losing you!" He pulled her into his arms. "It is only your pride which pushes you to defy me. You can help by sending orders to the physicians in Paris, enabling you to stay here and remain safe."

"Louis, this is bigger than you and me." She sighed, but it only made him angrier that she still persisted after he had given a stern answer. "I knew when I was crowned queen, like you, I was sacrificing my life for France and her people. When God sent me here I initially thought it was just because of what Rob did to me. Then as I fell in love with you I thought I was here was to be your companion. Then we were married and I thought maybe God wants me to help you rule this kingdom. Perhaps it was for all of these reasons or maybe it was something more important that has gone by us unnoticed. This much I know; when the messenger's dire news touched my ears today I knew it was God's will for me to go to Paris. It stirred my heart, as if an angel had whispered it into my ear."

"Those peasants are filthy, Elora. Who knows what else they have become sick with? What if you die? I cannot lose you."

"If God decides my life is to end, then it will end and I will have died with a clear conscious having ministered to the sick under His will."

"So you would rather go there to die a martyr, than stay here safe within my arms for a full and happy life?"

"I have faith that God will deliver me through this trial he has set before me. Esther was tested as I am now. And you know what she said when faced with death; 'If I perish, I perish.' Her faith saved her from almost certain death." As he still held her close to him, she reached up and caressed his face, sifting her other hand through his loose-hanging hair. "Please Louis, share in the faith I have."

"I cannot. I love you too much to risk losing you, no matter how small the risk. This my final word on the matter. You will not be going to Paris."

She pushed herself out of his embrace. "Louis, you don't understand." Her voice began to rise in anger. "I was not asking for your permission, nor will I have you commanding me against what I've chosen to do. You cannot force me to stay, I am queen."

"Yes, you are queen, Elora…and as such you are second only to _me_! And I say you will not go!"

"Then I will have to turn to threats. You are going to see me make such a scene in front of all your courtiers that it will be written in history. Picture this; I'm sitting at dinner and I stand up, demand silence and tell the entire court my story of how I came to France. Then what do think will happen? What will be my fate then?"

"No, that would be seen as blasphemy! I would not be able to protect you from the church!"

"Then let me go and I will be back in a few weeks, no worse for the ware, and we can go on as we were."

"No!" he thundered.

She looked on him with scorn and disappointment, as the tears fell from her eyes. She pulled open the door and ran from the room, not looking back.

He could not wait until morning to see her. He had to go to her now. He took with him her robe and followed her to her bedchamber. Yet when he entered the servants were frightened when telling him that the queen was not there. So now he had to go in search of her. She had to still be in the chateau, but where could she be. As he walked hurriedly down the Hall of Mirrors a guard that stepped forward from his place. Louis gave him permission to speak.

"If it is the queen you seek, Majesty, then I have been ordered by the queen not to say where she is."

"Where is she?"

"She hurried toward the opera and up the stairs." He pointed in the general direction.

That was all he needed to know, though he knew not what her purpose was in going to the attics. Quietly, he climbed the stairs after her.

Her ideas jumped from impulsive to insane so quickly. Did she want to visit Paris, with its death and decay, so badly that she would risk all she had gained for herself here? Confessing to the world her secret would be disastrous to all. He would have her locked in her chambers for solitary confinement until the pestilence had retreated. Though he doubted she would stand for that. He hated such an idea, but if it ensured she would be kept safe from herself then he would go to such a length.

He had never traveled up to the storage room himself. There was never the need. He saw one of his guards adjusting his uniform in the dark. "What business have you here?" Louis demanded. It was then the guard turned and his face became clear. "Elora Roux! What the devil?"

She would not speak to him, but continued to button the doublet.

"Is this your best means of escaping?" He had to admit it was a superb idea.

"Well, it was."

She picked up the sword lying on a chair. It was then he noticed the strange organization of the storage room. It was arranged in such a way, which made it look livable. Furniture was not covered, things were not piled, and the floors were dust free. This was Elora's doing. She had been coming here for a while and could guess for exactly how long. In the summer months, when she was always disappearing without a trace, he predicted this was where she was. If she had asked for her own sitting room he would have granted her one long ago. A queen should not be up here amongst the unwanted furnishings of the chateau.

At moments such as these he almost felt that he had done her a disservice marrying her. Encouraging her love at the beginning, proposing, marrying, making her queen all drove her away from her one dream she had in her life. Whether she remained in this time or not he could never fulfill her completely in the way she needed. Elora knew all of this when she married him and still she did not falter. Her single sacrifice contained more conviction than his entire life's worth. Knowing this how could he ever deny her anything again? He could only love her more for this.

He stopped her from lacing the boots. "This has been a rough beginning to our marriage these past few months. Every time we think things are going well disagreement commences. We need to attempt to work through our differences another way. I will take that next step.–Do you love me?" he asked, reaching his hand out for her.

"Yes," came her whisper, as she took his hand. "Of course."

"Then promise me now you will never tell anyone else about your origins. You know how much that frightens me."

She blinked twice before saying, "I promise."

"Then," he paused, despising what he was about to say. "Go with God to Paris, with my blessing. You must promise me you will return."

"I promise you. Thank you for understanding my reasons and respecting my needs."

He had not realized until she had mentioned the biblical queen, Esther, how much she was like her. God had sent Elora to his court as Esther was to the Persian king. He had showered her with all the niceties he could offer, yet she remained unselfish of his material world, thinking only of God. She won his heart and married a king. She became queen and now God was calling her to save her people. She was exactly like Queen Esther, whether she really knew it or not. God had been with Esther as she faced the most terrifying trial of her life and she survived. Elora would deserve no less attention from Him.

He now understood how much he had truly overreacted. His ignorance had hurt her, yet she forgave him without a second thought. He kissed her, lowering her down to the cushions. They made love right there on the old sofa, in the little attic room. Then he carried her back to his chambers and made love to her again.

ooOoo

King and queen spent the morning in solitude in the council room making all the arrangements for her incognito journey to Paris. No one save Doctor Dubuque and d'Artagnan, whom would accompany her, would know her true identity. Louis was explicit that she was to reveal herself to no one. They decided on alias name for her that was her mother's maiden name: Madame Marcotte**. **

Chris would depart Versailles with them under the pretense of them all leaving to visit Thérèse and Cesaire in Lucé. Of course they were not even traveling in same direction, so at the crossroads on the outskirts of Versailles they would part ways. d'Artagnan was to accompany her out of uniform and was given strict orders to remain by her side at all times. He was the only one of the royal guard to accompany her, per Elora's demand. Louis had his reservations since the whole intended murder, kidnapping debacle, but understood it would not be practical and hardly a secretive visit with all those guards around.

During her tenure in Paris Louis desired her to reside at Louvre, but she felt she would need to be in a residence closer, if not in the quarantined quarter. Documents were prepared and marked with the seal of the king and the queen, granting Elora to take complete charge of the quarantined quarter in Paris.

She left the next day with pomp and circumstance. The whole court watched as she bid farewell to Louis. Though he merely appeared disappointed to see her go, she could see the anxious worry in his eyes. She had better not get sick or he would be devastated.

He made her promise to return in a week's time, but she was not so certain such a promise could be kept. She would survey the damage in Paris first before writing to Louis to extend her trip. With such an audience a chaste kiss was all she had before she entered the carriage.

Though Chris had agreed yesterday to assist in the charade he was no less happy about it than Louis. At the crossroads, he dismounted from his horse and she joined him outside the carriage.

Chris shook his head at her. "You must be insane."

"I'll be okay."

"I do this only because it is the king's command. If you were my wife this is as close to Paris as I would let you go."

"I'm glad I turned down your proposal then. Don't criticize Louis too harshly. I was going whether he let me or not. He just made my going easier and safer."

"You are not as strong as you think you are, Elora."

"I told you I'm immune to pertussis."

"Please take care not to become ill." His deep concern resonated in his voice. He took her hand and kissed it.

"I will do my very best to stay healthy for everyone. Chris, when will you return to Versailles?"

"Not for some time. I visit with Therese and Cesaire for a few weeks, then I will have plenty to consume me at Chartres."

"Will you return in time for my birthday in April?"

"It is not likely."

"Oh," she cried and pulled him into her arms for a brief hug. "So we won't meet again for a few months. You won't forget to write me."

"Elora, I–" He looked so very much as if he were going to confess his feelings, so she stopped him. "I know," she said. "I love you too. I'm so glad to be part of your family."

He took a deep breath and remounted his horse. "As am I. Fare thee well, Elora Roux."

She watched Chris ride off, with a sad feeling in her heart. She truly liked that man. d'Artagnan cleared his throat. She looked to him, still on his steed behind the carriage. "Shall we press you, your majesty?" So she got back into the carriage and they continued on to Paris.

Sitting with Dubuque in the carriage for several hours was going to be tense to say the least. "Your Majesty, I cannot say I do not have the same reservations as his grace. Perhaps we should use this time to discuss your exact intentions before we step into Paris."

"Of course.–I know you think I have no right to intervene, but I am glad you are here with me."

"What makes you so confident you can be helpful to these sick?"

She took a deep breath before answering, hoping she was not going to regret her decision. If she could not discuss it with Dubuque, who was familiar with her, how would she handle all the strangers she needed to convince? "I feel my knowledge of things will be beneficial. I have studied this disease. I am good at observing what others overlook."

"Such as?"

"Don't worry I'll have plenty of things to say once I get a look at what we're dealing with in Paris."

Entering into the quarantined quarter was a bit like entering into a concentration camp. The streets between buildings were blocked off with high, wooden fencing. There were stakes at the top of giving the appearance of medieval battlement. Guards were at the gates making it all very intimidating. The driver handed the guards the king's order and they proceeded through without trouble. The roads smelled like sewage and people in the streets were scarce.

After settling into the evacuated magistrate's manor, they prepared to go to the infirmary. Elora changed her attire. Specific attire was prepared for her, per her design; cloth of simple blue cotton with a white apron. Double layered cloth masks were assembled for her. Enough gowns and masks were made so she could dispose of them each day and wear a new one the next. Well she only had a few days worth made, but more were being made and would be sent to her when completed.

They made their way for the infirmary. Just before they went into the building she said, "Doctor Dubuque, please remember to introduce me as Madame Marcotte."

"I will not falter, your majesty." She took his arm, as a daughter might with her father. He must have sensed her anxiety "Do not fear. I have always seen you rise to the occasion. No one will identify you in this attire. These gentlemen will accept you if you not only speak with authority, but also with respect. I sense you will shine here just as brightly as you do at court."

"Well, we'll see."

They entered the infirmary, which looked like it had been a factory at one time or another. It was meagerly finished and foul smelling. It was so cold they might as well have had all the windows open. She was introduced to Lord Charbonneauand Doctor Boisvert whom had been running the hospital. Lord Charbonneau was an older man of wealthy family, but had suffered in monies for the last few years and was eager to take any position the king offered him. Though his clothes were a bit out of style he appeared as if he never left the office they now stood in. He had moved much of his personal items into the office. Doctor Boisvert on the other hand could not have been any older than her parents and looked well worn down. He seemed grateful for some relief even if it was from Dubuque and she. She was greeted with courtesy from both, but nothing more. They spoke more to Dubuque than she, which she found aggravating, but she did not expect much more, king's command or not.

"Doctor Dubuque, we are honored with your presence. There is much here which we could use your expertise on."

"Actually gentlemen, I am merely here to assist Madame Marcotte. The techniques she will introduce may be our saving grace."

"Indeed." They only now took the time to sincerely acknowledge her.

"Gentlemen, I have been honored by the king to take point here. I will do my best to help you and these patients. May we tour the infirmary before we speak of the changes I would like to make?"

"Certainly, Madame."

The rooms were in terrible disrepair. She did not see one fireplace lit. There were no beds, little linen, bugs all over the place, overflowing chamber-pots, dirty water in basins being reused again and again! There were too many sick children crammed in every room and dead bodies were left barely covered in the same rooms with the sick without prompt removal. Many of the children did not even have a room, the they halls were filled with the sick as well.

She could not even understand what Charbonneau and Boisvert were bragging about, for she saw nothing being done correctly. She remained respectful of these men's efforts though, for she did not know whether for the time they were in now if this truly was considered innovative medical practice. By the looks of Dubuque as they toured he did not seem as horrified as she so she supposed it was just her 21st century mindset.

After leaving the patient rooms and returning to the office they all sat to discuss her designs. She was sure to tell them first what a good job they have been doing thus far and she would report so much to the king. Then she spoke further to explain what she thought the hospital was lacking, the means of improvement she meant to put into action, and for the most part the reasons why a cleaner environment was imperative.

Room by room Elora wanted them to scrub the floors, have a hand-washing stations with attendants specifically designated to bringing fresh water to each room throughout the day and also to keep the lavatory areas clean, and the fireplaces would be stocked and kept lit. She wanted everyone having any contact with the sick to wash their hands with lye soap in between patients. Clean linen would be ordered for each patient and laundresses would be brought in to clean them in boiling water. She wanted to separate the sick according to acuity and set up a triage area on the first floor for initial assessments to properly diagnose for admitting. She suggested better means to treat the symptoms, like increasing hydration and providing herbs with anti-emetic and cough suppressing properties.

Charbonneau and Boisvert wrote with their quills furiously as she spoke, clearly determined not to miss an order. This dedication impressed her. She had been prepared for defiance, but they seemed willing to acquiesce. With the king's support and the capital to sustain her objectives they got to work to put such requests into action.

By the end of the day the fires were lit, linen had been distributed, and hand-washing stations had been set up. She would go through assessing the patients tomorrow. Dubuque followed alongside her as they left for their own apartments.

"So," she began, "How did I do?"

"I did not expect improvements on so grand a scale. These sick appear incurable because of the duration of the illness being too long for most to endure. The children's lungs are just too weak. I have a difficult time seeing how such insignificant changes to the environment can be beneficial."

"I can understand why you think so, but listen to my theory. Imagine this: _coqueluche _and other contagious conditions, it all begins with a tiny parasite, unable to be seen by the naked eye, so small there is no conscious defense against it if it near you. Let's call the parasite a germ. Depending on what kind of germ it is if it enters you different sicknesses may result. Germs are able to infect us by many different means of transmission. They can travel in the air from another person. They can be in the food we eat and the water we drink. They can be sitting on some inanimate object, then you touch said object; the germ will go from the object to your hand and then if you touch your eye, nose, mouth, or a wound then it can sneak into your body and infect you."

"Since it is so small it seems impossible to protect yourself. One could become paranoid. Such a notion could cause hysteria."

"Yes, I suppose it could. And there are so many variables. How long the germ can live on an object without a host, how virulent it is, what can kill it, if it does enter a person if the person is healthy the body may be able to fight it off and not become ill."

"How can you be so certain of something that cannot be seen?"

She tipped her head and arched a brow. "I have my ways."

"It would prove helpful to know such specifics about _coqueluche._"

She turned her gaze toward him. Should she share more with him? "If I did would you believe in it?"

"I have followed you to Paris believing in you."

"I thought you came because of King Louis' command."

"In truth, that is what allowed me to come. Your mind has fascinated me since you threw my leaches out the king's window at Versailles. The king is in the same state, fascinated; which is why I believe he began loving you."

She smiled, thinking to herself how much she could share with this doctor if he knew the whole truth about her. She could bring to light Louis Pasteur's discoveries two hundred years early. But that was not fair she knew. That would be going too far. She had no right to take credit for someone else's theories and discoveries.

"With _coqueluche _the germ spreads by droplets that the sick person coughs and breaths out. Then if people close by breathe it in they will likely get infected. It can directly and indirectly infect others."

He nodded. "This is why you insist upon masks and clean hands."

"Yes, among the other things. You see now why it is just as important to prevent the spread of infection as it is to treat this children."

"This is going to be a challenge, your majesty."

"I know."

They scrubbed clean and changed attire. After eating a modest supper with Doctor Dubuque she focused on writing to Louis. If she did not keep her promise she worried he would send in the troops to yank her out of Paris. She sent a three page letter closed with her royal seal.

ooOoo

The next day brought only hurdles. Sweat and hard work ruled the day. She barely had time to eat. So there she was, the queen of all France, with about three-hundred patients under her care, one-fifth of which were dying daily from the pertussis. She had promised Louis she would only stay in Paris for a week so she had to work quickly.

She first put into practice the use of masks for all the workers. She spent the entire morning education about masks and the importance of hand washing. She could not expect everyone to be compliant if they did not understand the causes and effects.

Along with Dubuque and Boisvert she prescribed light sedatives to relax the patients and keep the coughing to a minimum. Dehydration was a big problem. It was difficult getting the sick children to drink efficiently because in most cases the coughing was constant and severe. Some coughed to the point of vomiting. She truly wished she could start an IV and get them fluids that way, but that was out of the question.

The patients were curious of a woman giving direction and having so much authority, but they were so sick, no one declined the help offered. She made it a point to visit with every patient there before she left for the night. Though there were countless that she would not remember their names, she still cared for them with an untiring heart.

She had noticed that many of the patients evaluated and given a room were not even sick with the whooping cough until they were there for a few days. It was obvious that they picked it up there. Many just came in with a simple cough and with some symptoms of a cold. Doctor Boisvert seemed to admit anyone with a cough, not even properly examining them to see if they had pertussis.

Doctor Dubuque's assistant spent his day setting up the triage area to her specifications. She nodded with approval as she did a walk through. "Yes, this will do nicely, I think."

They began ushering the sick in one at a time for them to assess. She mainly took a backseat in this process and watched the actual doctors do the assessment. The majority ages of the sick coming in ranged from infant to adolescent. Many came without a parent. If family did accompany it was either because the child was too young or too sick to walk in on their own.

Doctor Boisvert wanted to admit a nine year old girl for _coqueluche_, but her diagnosis differed. She sent her to a neighboring building for observation. If it was just an upper respiratory infection, there was no sense in putting her with the other sick. Doctor Boisvert was not pleased, but was too busy to make a big deal about it.

The day had begun with a census of 286, by the end of the day 67 more were admitted and 46 died, leaving the number at 307. She could not say that as the dead children were carried out she was not disturbed, but she at least had the comfort of knowing that in their last day they were receiving medicine for a comfortable death and were in a warm room. She had to focus her attention on the living now.

She felt better leaving the hospital tonight. She was certainly exhausted, but was still excited to read Louis' letter. Though the letter was short he emphasized how much he loved and missed her, warned her again to be safe, and to return soon. After scrubbing herself in a hot bath she wanted nothing more, but to fall into bed for a peaceful sleep. Instead she dressed in her nightgown and wrote to Louis of the day's happenings.

ooOoo

While in triage a few days later a sick young man of 17 limped unsteadily into triage. It was obvious immediately to all that he did not have _coqueluche_, but something just as critical. The two doctors came to the quick and certain conclusion that it was an advanced case of tuberculosis. Elora backed into the desk, knocking over the books in the process. She covered her mouth and hastily excused herself from the room.

She had been standing by the boy and breathing his air for at least five minutes. Since his case was active she could very likely contract TB, cloth mask or not. Louis would kill her before the disease did if he found out! No, Louis would not be allowed near her. She would die slowly and alone in seclusion without ever seeing her husband again.

Dubuque followed her out of the room. "Are you unwell? I would have thought you would find his case interesting, since it is unlike the hundreds we have been seeing over the past few days."

"It is interesting, but I cannot go back in that room. Tuberculosis this advanced is highly contagious, even for me. I cannot get sick as you know. Send him out of the building to a private room and have someone specifically designated to care for him. Make sure that person does not care for anyone else for the duration of his stay."

"It is likely he will not survive the night in any case."

"Indeed? Is he really so sick?"

"He does not have enough blood because he is expelling it by the quart and he cannot breathe. It will be only hours I think."

"Then give him a larger dose of laudanum."

"I already intended to."

"Okay. I'll make rounds now. Come find me once he has been transferred out and the triage room has been thoroughly sanitized."

After twelve days in Paris she felt confident leaving the hospital in Doctor Boisvert's care. She left a handful of assistants to carry on her sanitary protocol. As she arrived in the afternoon through Versailles' gates she saw Louis and all of the court waiting for her. She galloped her horse ahead of the guards to him. Louis assisted her off the horse and she practically knocked him to the ground; smothering him with kisses.

"I missed you so much!"

"And I you, my love."

Elora whispered in his ear, "Let's retire to our chamber right now."

"You read my thoughts, Elora."

**ooOoo**

**Dear Readers,**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 37! Between the endless drama in my life I have been struggling to write this chapter. Sorry I took so long posting. Only a few chapters left before it is complete…**

**Will update soon! Thank you for your continued support and all your encouraging words. As always, I appreciate feedback! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**God bless, **

**L.B. Tempia**


	38. Chapter 38

20

CHAPTER 38

She returned to her normal duties at court. There were so many things on her agenda. One afternoon and page entered her chambers carrying a small pillow. He bowed and presented her with it. Pinned to the little purple pillow was the voucher she had given him for a homemade dinner. Things had been quite busy the past week or two and they had not really had any alone time together except at night in their bedroom. She figured Louis was feeling the loss of her company and was anxious to remedy it.

After bidding good afternoon to the Duchess of Montagu, who had come for refreshment Elora made her way to the kitchens with Suzanne faithfully following behind her. She had not been in the kitchens since before the wedding. She had neglected the servants atrociously, but was sure they would be forgiving because of the circumstances.

There was hundreds of kitchen staff and she knew most of their names. She spoke with the head chef, Jacques, who was directly responsible for preparing Louis' food. She explained to him what she wanted to do. He was amused for a moment, thinking she must surely be jesting.

"But your majesty, your rank must take precedence. You should not soil your hands."

"Don't be silly, Jacques. Though I am queen, I am first a wife. As King Louis' wife it is my vowed duty to serve my husband. He requested this of me and I am more than happy to fulfill his wishes. Anything I can do to give him in return the joy he has given me I will do, even if the task is humbling."

"Very well, your majesty. What do you intend to prepare, I will assist you."

"I am not sure. Might I take a look around at your meats and produce?"

So they toured the kitchen. She saw the chickens flapping about before the butcher caught them. "I'll take four chickens and see that they are plucked well." She would make him some fried chicken. She glanced over the vegetables. For the first course she decided on zucchini sautéed in garlic and tomato as well as garlic bread. The side dishes she chose were roasted potatoes smothered in caramelized onions, steamed green beans drizzled with red wine vinegar, and spinach and cheese stuffed mushrooms. She found a box of coconuts on the floor. They had been shipped from the Americas and there were so many. She found out the French were not familiar with the fruit and hardly used. "I'll make him some coconut cream pie!"

Now she did not have any recipes, but she had cooked these dishes enough times she believed she could remember them for the most part. He had the kitchen staff below him fetching all the ingredients needed for the recipes. She let Jacques handle the chicken, at least until it resembled the chicken in the meat department of the grocery store. She began with the pie, for she believed that would take the most time and skill.

She sent a note to Louis asking him to join her in her private dining room in the Queen's Chambers at seven and before she knew it afternoon had passed. The only thing completed was the pie. There was only two hours before dinner and she could not be late, for Louis would be most upset.

They made the garlic spread for the bread, the tomato sauce, cut up the vegetables, caramelized the onions and stuffed the mushrooms. They started frying the battered chicken in the heated lard and Jacques practically took over that job. She pan-fried and put into the oven all the other vegetables.

"Are you certain," said Jacques as he flipped the chicken in the pan, "that this will be enough for His Majesty?"

"It will have to be. He asked me to make him dinner and this is what he gets. He would not dare be unsatisfied with me." She laughed. "At least I hope not."

ooOoo

Louis sat in the Queen's Salon awaiting her for dinner, just as she planned. She carried in one hand a platter of fresh out of the oven, bubbling buttery garlic bread and a glass carafe of wine in the other. He stood, even though she entered with no announcement.

He seemed flabbergasted at the sight before him. "Elora, what in heaven's name? Why are you coming from the servant's door? And why are you carrying bread? Is that an apron?"

Placing the platter and carafe on the table she said in such a casual manner, "Didn't you send me your voucher for a homemade dinner? Well, here it is. There are so many more yummy dishes to come. Why don't you start on the cheesy, garlic bread and I'll bring out the next course."

"No, Elora. Truly I sent that to you in jest. You were busy all day with the Duchess of Montagu, which is why I knew you could never complete such a task. You were not supposed to prepare my food."

"But you sent me the voucher. I finished with the Duchess early in order to cook you a dinner myself. I have been slaving in kitchens for the past five hours."

"You actually cooked yourself?"

Her frustration with Louis transformed into anger. "And baked a dessert."

"I see. It cannot be helped now I suppose. You must at least sit and have the servants bring out the meal."

"Louis, you've used up your order-quota for the day."

"But Elora—" She stuffed a slice of garlic bread into his mouth to shut him up.

"Eat up! I'll be right back." She ran back to the kitchens to bring out the casserole dish of the zucchini baked in marinara sauce and sprinkled with a bit of melted cheese.

When she returned he was still eating the garlic bread, but half the loaf was gone. She could not understand where that man put all the food he ate. He ate portions for three men, but still kept his trim figure.

"Elora, you must forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive." She sat down across from him and began eating. It had turned out well considering she had no recipes to go by. She watched as Louis took his first bite of zucchini. She truly hoped he would like it.

As he chewed a smile formed. "Excellent, Elora. It's so good I would have believed one of my master chefs to have prepared it."

"Now don't go overboard. You haven't even had the main course yet. You may regret such compliments."

"I doubt that. There is one thing I can always depend upon, you never disappoint."

He had finished his course before she was halfway through hers and began to ask, "Will you feed me no more, wife?"

She got up and he took her hand to stop her as she walked past him. "I love you," he said and kissed her hand. "Please do not leave me. Have the servants bring the rest."

"This will be my last trip. I'll be right back."

She left and reentered with two servants all hands full of food. When the servants had stepped out she explained the dishes. "I know there is not the variety you are used to, but I made a lot of everything." She dished out several pieces of fried chicken and the vegetables until his plate was piled high.

He could not believe how she had cooked the chicken to such crispy perfection. It looked dry and lacking sauce or juice, but in fact the skin was crisp and meat juicy and flavorful. "I've never had it prepared so…so…"

"That's how we make it in the future."

"This food has all the earmarks of Elora Roux. Even if I had not known you prepared this I believe I still would have known. I cannot completely understand it and there certainly is no reasoning behind it."

Then a pie was brought out. Elora was quite proud of it, since it was difficult to make without the equipment she was used to. "I have never tasted anything quite like it. Coconut may be a common fruit for you, but not for me."

After perhaps too many compliments Elora was moved to say, "Perhaps we should make this something we do every week. I'm sure I could think of dozens of more meals to cook for you."

"Elora, my love, though I fully enjoyed myself tonight and could not be more pleased with your willingness to do such, I do not believe it is in your best interest to do this again."

She hated being bound to such strict codes of conduct. "Yes, queens are not supposed to cook. I understand."

"Is that what you really think?"

"No. I think this charade of proper conduct is bullshit. I am queen. I am the second most powerful person in this country and no one should dictate what I cannot do. My conduct is not sinful in any respect. So unless you order me never to go to the kitchens again I most certainly will."

"You have made your point. You may still cook time and again, but it cannot be a weekly ritual or courtiers will talk."

She thanked him. She was glad he was willing to compromise.

"The voucher was for six courses, did you think I would not be able to count that high?"

"Louis, are you serious right now? I've slaved for hours. Are you any less full short one course?"

"Two."

"What?"

"You were short two courses. Though there were several foods with the main entrée."

"Did I not make enough for you? You ungrateful, husband. I'm home slaving in the kitchen all day–" When she moved to clear the plates away he pulled her down into his lap and kissed her fervently without restraint.

"I was only teasing, my love," Louis mumbled through his kisses. "To be honest, I was expecting you to say you would be the remaining courses."

"Is that so? I suppose I can accommodate that desire."

ooOoo

Louis desired a grand celebration held for Elora's upcoming birthday. This would be the first of many birthday celebrations for the new queen. She wanted nothing quite as grand as Louis was planning. She was tired of big parties. She wanted a small group with only their dearest friends around them. There would be a celebration with the courtiers in the afternoon, then a quiet dinner with Louis.

Spring had arrived at Versailles it seemed overnight for her special day. Elora was now twenty years old. There were so many fun activities that were set outdoors in the gardens. She did not want for enjoyment that day. Louis was by her side throughout. It was a very happy day. Louis' gift to her was a solid gold key giving her sole entrance to the newly refinished Queen's Garden.

"You may feel free to do anything you wish in your garden without the fear of prying eyes."

"Like going on my runs or sword-fighting practice with the guards?"

"Yes, though why I encourage such manly activities is beyond me."

They began to walk indoors for dinner. "Will it just be us for dinner then?"

"No. There will be a surprise guest."

"Who? Philippe? That's not so great a surprise."

"Perhaps."

They adjourned to the King's Chambers. "Close your eyes," Louis requested as a page opened the door to the Venus Salon. When he told her to open them, what her eyes beheld was nothing short of a miracle. Therese, Cesaire, and even Chris were there. Friends were embraced and gifts were extended.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so glad you are all here! But how is it possible. Last I heard Therese you were still settling into your new home and Chris you were too busy with the spring planting." She turned to Louis before waiting for an answer. "I thought I told you not to impose upon them, Louis."

"I did not, Elora, on my honor."

"His Majesty speaks the truth, Elora," Therese interceded.

"It was my idea to surprise you. Christophe took a little convincing, but even he is here."

"I am so happy! Thank you all for coming! You have no idea how special you have made this day, just by letting me see you."

They laughed and made merry as they consumed a feast. A small ensemble played music as they danced gaily. They played at cards for sometime through the night, drinking rich wine all the while. When they began to disband all five found themselves more than a little intoxicated, but pleasantly so.

ooOoo

When the king woke on a warm, sunny morning he immediately kissed his sleeping wife beside him. He brushed a single curl off her face. Elora was truly stunning. He would have thought that such a beautiful woman would ever be his wife. He thanked God once again for giving her to him.

When Elora stirred he spoke to her, "My love, do you know what today is?"

"Sunday." She slowly stretched her arms above her head.

"Yes, Sunday, April nineteenth. Does that remind you of something?"

"Should it?"

He tenderly pulled her into his embrace beside him. "It is the day I woke and found you in my arms."

Elora turned to see his face, smiling at him. "How could I forget? It's the day my life began."

"Now when did you become so poetic, Elora."

"Louis, since today is the anniversary of the day we first met perhaps we could play hooky from our duties. I have been planning a nice surprise for you and just waiting for an occasion. I think our one year anniversary is perfect!"

They decided go on a rather vigorous few hours of horseback riding in the depths of Versailles. They got to talking about ballet. Louis was determined to have her dance once again in the stage.

"I'd like to Louis, but the shoes I brought with me I cannot wear again. It was bad enough practicing in the shoes Monsieur Pelletier made for me."

"I thought you approved of the shoes he made."

"Don't get me wrong I was impressed with how closely he replicated my pointe shoes, but they were still not the same. I was going through a pair of shoes just about every day practicing for that ballet and it seems like the shoes he made had less wear to them. There was not as much support as I am used to. Perhaps if he works more at the reproduction more he will perfect it, until then I really do not feel it would be safe for me to do so much pointe."

"I will put Monsieur Pelletier to work then. Perhaps we can have another ballet by my next birthday."

Louis was really something. "We'll see. If I don't feel I can dance pointe safely I will not attempt it."

"Now you know I am not pushing you to do something that would compromise your safety merely for the sake of my amusement. The queen's wellbeing is most important to me."

ooOoo

The queen retired with the king into his royal bedroom. He poured a glass of sherry wine for his dear wife and himself. She pulled out a small trinket box from under the bed and unlocked it with a small key. He wondered how long that had been under his bed. From the box she took out something he had not seen in months. It was her futuristic music box.

"All right Louis, you are just going to love this surprise, but you will only get to see it once, so enjoy it."

"Are we to listen to your music?" he questioned.

"No, something far more exciting. Do you remember how I told you that back home there is a musical version of Don Quixote." He nodded. "Well I have it in this."

"You mean the music?"

"No. I have the movie, Man of La Mancha."

"I do not understand."

She only smiled as she put little plugs into his ears. When she touched the machine it lit up. Merely that amazed him; light without a flame. "Since this is new to you, you may have a hard time, but just try to focus your attention on the moving-picture on the screen."

He had never seen anything like it. What he heard through the plugs was completely synchronized with what he was seeing. He could hardly explain what he was seeing. It was like a small world with people performing in it. "And these are full sized people?"

"Yes. They just look small on screen."

As he watched he saw the characters he knew and loved so well come to life in these actors. It was the most brilliant, sincere performance he had ever seen. The actors made the story seem really, like it was truly happening at that moment in Elora's little box. It must have been hours that they sat there absorbed in the performance. When it had ended he turned to Elora who had wrapped her arm around his and her head tipped against him.

"Elora, this was…I hardly have words…it was the greatest performance of my life. I have never felt quite so privileged, so honored to have seen such a masterpiece. Are all _movies_ like that?"

She laughed. "Yes some are. Most do not have singing and dancing, at least not the modern ones."

"Shall we ever see it again?"

She shook her head as she put the machine back in the trinket box and locked it. "The battery is just about dead now and I'll never be able to recharge it again here. I've known for a while now and wanted to use it for the last time to share it with you."

"I love you dearly." He kissed her affectionately. "Shall we to bed, wife?"

ooOoo

The morning came; Elora was the first to wake. She wanted to go out to her garden and jog around a bit. She put a robe over her naked body and took in a deep breath, ready to greet the day. As soon as she stood her head began to spin.

"Louis," she cried. "I'm so dizzy!" Her head was so heavy and it was like there was a weight pushing her eyelids closed. She fell back onto the bed.

Louis woke with a startle. "What shall I do? Shall I send for the physician?"

"No! I think I know what this is! I've felt it before! I'm going home."

"This cannot be happening! He's taking you away? My life is meaningless without you. Elora, you cannot leave me here!—God, don't take her from me!"

She wished she were merely dying. For then the wait to be with Louis again would not be so long. "Come with me." Elora held out her hand. God could not separate them. He had to give Louis to her.

Louis bent and kissed her lips hard. "You know I cannot, my place is here."

She hugged him, refusing to let go. "Thank you for sharing your world with me."

"I would give it to you forever if it were mine to give. Thank you for bringing me to life and sincerely loving me.–Love me forever. Think of me often because I will always be thinking of you. You are the most wonderful thing that ever came into my life. We will only meet again in heaven, I think."

She kissed his tears away. She felt this heavy sinking feeling in her chest like there was a weight inside, pulling her down. She was being ripped from her only love. He had brought her to life. Now as she was going away from him she felt that life, that spark, that reason to exist, draining from her being. "Louis…hold me for the last time and don't let go. I love you so much."

"I love you with all my heart, Elora Roux. Never forget you are a Queen of France. I know I will set eyes on you once again. In your future life never feel like you are alone. I will be there beside you whenever you need me, even though you will not be able to see me. I promise you, we will reunite in heaven, in the celestial city."

That was the last thing she heard him say. Everything all around her seemed to fade away, the room, the bed, Louis' teary-eyed face; even his warm, strong, comforting embrace. She prayed when she woke this all would not have been a dream. Dreading even more so the idea she might not remember him at all.

ooOoo

Louis lied in the bed even though Elora was no longer there. He could not explain what had just happened. One moment she was clearly in his embrace. He could feel her warmth against him and her sweet breath on his shoulder and the next moment she was gone.

"Damn you, God!" Louis screamed. He had just lost the best thing in his life. How could God give her to him and then decide to take her back? He never dreamed God would be so unjust with him. Now what was he to do? How was he to explain to France that their queen no longer exists?

King Louis thought at length before taking any action. Once he began this there was no going back. He rang for Elora's servant girl to come. No one else was to gain entrance to the king's bedchamber. No one could yet know that Elora Roux was no longer present.

Just as she entered he finished tying his robe. "Yes, your majesty?" Suzanne bobbed a curtsy. She looked around the room obviously looking for the queen. He locked the door behind her.

"Suzanne, the queen is gone. She has gone back to her home."

She began to cry. Louis graciously gave the servant his handkerchief.

"You cared for her well. I know you loved her. Now we must make the world believe the queen has died."

"But Your Majesty, where are the remains? If we say this we will need a body."

Louis already knew what was to be done. He sent for his council and his doctors. Once assembled in the anteroom adjoining the bedchamber he announced with great remorse, "Her Majesty, the queen is dead. I found her lifeless body when I woke. She surely died in her sleep." Real tears issued from his already swollen eyes.

Signs of the cross were made by all and small prayers were muttered. Only Doctor Dubuque was bold enough to dare say, "I must examine, Her Majesty, your majesty."

"Indeed? Why must you? What conclusion could you make? She has passed from this world; that is all anyone need know."

"I must see if the cause was possibly infectious, your majesty; as it may concern your health as well."

"I will not have you enter that room, disturbing her body. It occurred from natural causes, she was not ill." He turned to Colbert who indeed seemed grieved. "Have a casket delivered to the room immediately. We will proceed with the funeral today. The queen's servants are already preparing her body for burial. See that the announcement is made throughout France."

Louis would not have her bathed or anointed with oils as the clergy were accustomed to, since there was in fact no body. The guards brought in the casket and King Louis excused them saying he would place the body into the casket himself. It was not the grandest that a queen deserved, but it would do.

"Now how are we to weigh down the casket? I had not thought of this."

"If I may, your majesty," spoke Suzanne. "I know of a room containing builder's supplies. I could smuggle in a dozen or so bricks."

"Perfect!"

So the servant completed the suggested task. He was not entirely sure how much of her past Elora had explained to Suzanne, but from her calm attitude he believed she knew enough.

All of France was told Queen Elora died of heart failure in her sleep. Many courtiers grieved her death. Versailles echoed with sobs, even from the servant's quarters. The casket was carried off to the church once the court had assembled to pay their respects. The clergy prayed over the empty casket for a couple of hours.

Philippe appeared to be suffering the loss, but would not speak a word to him. Now that Elora was gone Philippe once again seemed to see no need to be civil. Lady Therese wept openly and even Christophe was very discomposed. The Morlaix siblings knew of Elora's secret, therefore it would only be just to tell them the truth of today's events. He should have told them before the funeral began, before they heard the worst, but he honestly had not considered them until he saw his weeping cousin. He would have to send for them later and give an explanation.

The casket of the queen was sealed and sent to St. Denis for burial. He sent two dozen of the royal guard to ensure its safe delivery. Louis did not return to the confines of his chambers until after dark. He had his meal sent for. It was rare for him to do so, but he would eat unaccompanied tonight. Suzanne delivered to him a thick letter written by Elora. The servant explained that the queen had written it some months ago in case such a situation ever occurred.

_Dear Louis,_

_Thinking of the possibility of leaving you and this life we have built together devastates me, but if you are reading this then what I have most dreaded has come to pass. God placed me in your loving care when I came to Versailles. We have been through so much together and I have loved every moment. You gave me love greater than I could ever have imagined. Your kindness, generosity, patience, faith, and love have lit the flame in my heart. _

_There are so many memories with you I will cherish. Like when I almost knocked you out with a poker, when you first told me I was beautiful, when you caught me running through the gardens with the guards, when you taught me to dance, when you took me in your arms and told me you would take care of me and the baby, our first kiss, when you proposed (both times), our wedding, our wedding night and every night since._

_You know it was never my plan to marry at such a young age. You, Louis, were the exception who changed my mind. You have been the best husband I could ever ask for. I can't imagine loving anyone other than you, but if God has chosen to separate us then I hope I might find love again. I have the same wish for you. You need to remarry…as soon as your heart lets you. You might have an arranged marriage and not know her well. All I ask it that you try to love her and honor her as you honored me._

_I don't want to read in history books that you became a player again after I left. Raise your children with love and give them the attention you always wanted as a child. Try not to be a spendthrift; Versailles Chateau is grand enough. If I take a tour of the chateau in the future and find you've wasted one more piece of gold on another fountain in the gardens I will be most upset. I'm sorry to say all of this, but I wanted you to know this in the case that we do not get to talk about everything before I go._

_I love you so so much. Louis, please don't ever forget me._

_Yours forever,_

_Elora _

How could he ever remarry as she had instructed him to? No woman could ever compare to her. No queen could be as humble and caring. No love could ever please him as Elora had. He would _never_ love any other woman again. His heart was locked tightly, waiting for Elora to come back to him and open it.

Not long after reading such a powerful letter Louis received the Duc de Chartres in parlor, at Chartres' request. "Your Majesty," Christophe spoke as he entered. He was dressed in black from head to toe as if it had been his wife that had died.

"I did mean to send for you today. What is it you want of me?"

"There is something quite wrong with the queen's death. I am told you were there with her at her last. I need answers."

"What do you mean? Who are you to make such a demand of your king?"

"My sister received a letter, bidding her goodbye from Her Majesty. Why was her casket closed with no one granted to view her body? And, your majesty, heart failure? You must really imagine I am gullible if you want me to believe the queen died of a bad heart. Elora was the strongest and most healthy woman who ever lived. It would take a great deal more than a weak heart to kill Elora Roux."

"I thought I was the only one to receive a letter. Oh Elora, what a mess you have made here!" He rubbed his forehead. That servant girl had given him a letter, but he had not known there were others. "What did she write?"

"All she would mention was advice for our family's future. Though it will not be in our lifetime, she wants us to somehow pass down through our family that we must leave France before the year 1789. She said lives would depend on it. Your majesty, can you imagine such a devastating turn of events, which would make it necessary to evacuate our country? War?"

"Worse…a bloody revolution. Elora mentioned something about it to me only once. Chartres, I must tell you, Elora did not die."

Chris practically grabbed the king's arm. "She lives!"

"Not exactly; she went back to the future. So I suppose she does not really exist at this moment. She will not be born until the year nineteen-hundred ninety."

"So she is still gone forever." He put his arm on Chartres' shoulder.

"Yes." A tear fell down Louis' cheek. "God keep her safe, for I no longer can."

**ooOoo**

**Dear Readers,**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 38! Sorry I took so long posting. I hope you are not too disappointed in the turn of events, but I felt while writing, The Celestial City, this was an inevitable happening. Do not worry too much; Elora's adventures do not end here. There is still more to be revealed!**

**Will update soon! Thank you for your continued support and all your encouraging words. As always, I appreciate feedback! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**God bless, **

**L.B. Tempia**


	39. Chapter 39

25

CHAPTER 39

When Elora awoke, her eyes opened to her dream-catcher hanging from the ceiling fan. She was back home, in her own bed, in her own room in the 21st century. "Nooooo!" she screamed and wept into a pillow.

This was not right! This could not be happening. She was married to Louis. She was a good wife, a good friend, and a good queen. What reason could God have to separate them? She could not fathom the fact that Louis was gone. The life she and Louis had built had come to a crashing halt and was literally history. She had just been with him. He was very alive and robust and just beginning his long life, yet now, after what felt like only minutes, Louis was long dead and she would _never_ see him again. She would never again hear his haughty voice. She would never again keep warm within his embrace. They would never eat, laugh, or even sleep with each other ever again.

She kneeled at the foot of crucifix hanging on her wall. She appealed to God, "Lord a year wasn't enough time! Take me back. Please! I'll do anything, I'll give anything, if you will only let me be with Louis again." But nothing happened. All remained still in the room and the absolute silence was deafening. She could do nothing, but weep and bury her face in the bed.

"Elora!" her mother's shriek came from downstairs, jarring her from the tormenting despair. "Breakfast is almost ready!"

Though she was in absolute agony, the sound of her mother's voice gave her comfort she did not think possible. She had not realized until now that she was _home_, which meant she could see her whole family again. She was about to fly downstairs to reunite with them, but stopped as she turned the knob. She looked down at herself seeing she was still wearing her robe from the 1663. Her wedding rings and signet ring still remained on her fingers. At least it was a confirmation that she had not dreamed it all up. She had always feared she would awaken to find she had been in a coma or she had been only dreaming and nothing she had experienced was real, but it was real…too real.

Upon going to her dresser, she opened the third draw and took out pajamas she knew she must put on. She never thought she would see this room or these clothes again. After dressing she looked over herself in the mirror on her closet door. Even wearing pajamas her rings were a dead give-away. She knew she had to take them off if she did not want her parents to find out. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stroked the emerald and imagined Louis in her mind, firmly determined to always keep him in her heart. "I love you…forever," she whispered. Perhaps Louis could hear her, even see her. If he were in heaven he could be looking in on her.

Elora felt as if her memory of Louis was slipping away as she slowly slid the ring off her finger. She placed the rings into a little trinket box and hid it at the top of her bookcase.

She went into her bathroom to freshen up before she dared to go downstairs. She had never been so grateful for a toilet in all her life. She would never forget the nightmare of needing to use the toilet in the seventeenth century.

She took a deep breath, wiped away the tears which had refused to cease, and slowly opened the door to the hallway. She wondered how long it had been. What day was it? Had a year passed here too? Had someone from the past switched places with her? Did her family know she had been gone? She was terrified and curious to know all at once as she made her way downstairs. Everything seemed normal and in the same places.

She walked further on. She passed by the toy room. Damien and Wesley were sitting on the futon playing the latest video game. They did not even see her standing in the doorway. They were always in their own world when playing those asinine games.

Dad was sitting on the couch in his boxers watching television. That meant it was Saturday morning. He did not see her walk by either. She was unsure of what she would have said if he did see her.

Then Elora walked into the kitchen. Mom was frying eggs and Mémé was sitting at the kitchen table taking small sips of coffee as she read the newspaper.

Her mother stopped buttering the toast. "Elora, why are you crying?"

"Mom!" Elora ran to her and hugged her practically knocking her down. "I missed you."

"What's the joke?–Are you talking with an accent?"

Elora bit her lip. She had not noticed. She made sure to carefully speak each word to speak properly like she always had. "Yeah, Mom, I'm just teasing."

"Were you up late studying last night?"

"What?"

"Studying for your finals? I can hardly believe a daughter of mine gives up a Cancun vacation to study during her break."

"Oh, that's right. Finals are coming up aren't they?" She had completely forgotten. Lord, she was really going to need to study now. She could hardly remember her course work after so long.

Mémé raised a suspicious brow. "Elora Amelie, come here to me."

"Yes, Mémé?"

Mémé put down her coffee to better sniff out the truth. "There is something very different about you today."

This was it. The interrogation was beginning. She had hoped to get by a little longer than three minutes before it started. Mémé was always so good at winkling the truth out of her. Today though, she would have no such luck. She was uncertain of a great many things, but telling her family of her 17th century adventure was not one of them. It was not exactly a conversation to be had over breakfast. She frankly did not have the strength to talk about it. They probably would not have believed her anyway. They were all too sensible to believe in time travel. Maybe she would tell them someday if the occasion called for it.

"I agree."

"You have been crying."

"Yes."

"Over what?"

"I'll tell you later, Mémé." She waved her hand at her.

"I'm going to hold you to that."

Mom put the large dish of fried eggs in the center of the table, next to the toast. "Get the plates and silverware, Elora," spoke Mom as she poured the juice into the glasses. "Rob called the house three times this morning. Why aren't you answering your cell? You should call him back."

"Rob?" Elora laughed. She had nearly forgotten about him. He had caused her so much grief. So this is what they called the past coming back to haunt you. "I broke up with him…last night, as a matter of fact.–I can't even remember why I wasted three years on that jerk. I never want to see him again."

Mom closed the refrigerator door a little more dramatically than was called for. "Are you all right, Elora?"

"Don't worry, Mom. I'm completely over him. I promise." Actually, what she wanted to say was that she was broken-hearted from being separated from her husband.

She was reminded at breakfast that the family was planning to go to visit with Uncle Tom and the cousins that day. Of course since a year had passed for her she had forgotten all about these plans. She told her parents she was feeling sick and tired, achieving the excuse to stay behind.

As much as she wanted to spend time with her family after such a long separation, she needed some alone time. She had moved on from this life. She had disconnected herself from all things in this time; now everything seemed so foreign, even speaking long sentences in English were taxing. She needed to think about a lot of things, like what she was going to do with the rest of her life. She was not sure she wanted the same things as she did before.

The entire family was out of the house by eleven. She was now alone. More than anything, she was curious to find out if Louis had remarried. She ran to her computer. She was hopeful the internet would have all the answers. Using the mouse was so strange to her now. She found she could not do things nearly as quickly as she once did.

She surprised Louis had so many pages dedicated to him. She read of his youth and his kingship, most of which she already knew about. Reading on it mentioned his first wife, Queen Elora. She could click on her name. There was a page about her!

_Her Majesty, Queen Elora Roux, the Comtesse de Valréas (4/3/1643-4/10/1663):_

_Little is known of this queen's youth before entering Versailles' court life at age nineteen in 1662. She gained distinction for saving King Louis XIV's life from a terminal illness that same year. She became a favored courtier and many men sought for Elora Roux's hand, including King Louis. Elora Roux accepted his offer of marriage. They were married January 1, 1663._

_The brief monarchical reign of Queen Elora was said to be a very joyful period for France. Queen Elora died suddenly of heart failure on April 10, 1663. She never bore any children to the crown, but it was rumored that before her death she was with child._

How could history say she dies pregnant, when she did not know it herself? She would have to go and buy a pregnancy test now that she was thinking about it. She could not imagine having Louis' child in the 21st century without him beside her. Such a fate would be a blessing and well as a curse.

Elora could not believe she was famous. It seemed so weird reading about her own marriage. It was worded so dry; it said nothing of their romance and overcoming so many struggles. Though she reasoned with herself that it was not like every move she and Louis made was recorded in detail and if it was who was to say if it could have survived three-hundred fifty years.

She read on about Louis. He did remarry two years after she left. The woman was a princess from Spain. They had five children together, though only one survived childhood. Louis was an excellent king and did many good things for France after she was gone. She was very proud of him. She was surprised to read that his family line did not end with the French Revolution, but extended late into the 19th century. Then reading on about the multitudes of mistresses he had and the dozens of children he spawned she was not so surprised. She thought he would have given up on such things as affairs. If she had been there she believed that such happenings would not have gone on.

"Oh Louis, how long will it take me to move on?" Elora cried, sitting in her empty room. She wished she could have been there, by his side, through all of his struggles and triumphs. She wondered if he loved any of those women. In a way she wanted him to have loved because then he would have been happy for the latter part of his life. At the same time she did not want him to love her. What if wife-number-two made him forget about her? What if he loved her more?

She was alone, alone to face this world and Louis would never be with her. She would never again see his immaculate face. She would never again feel his caress across her cheek. He would never again carry her in his strong arms. Elora remembered Louis' last words to her, "We will reunite in the celestial city." He was already waiting for her. He had lived his life through without her, now it was her turn.

It had been only the beginning of her spring break before Louis and the seventeenth century consumed a year of her life in a single night. She could not even remember exactly what she had planned for this week. She felt there was nothing she left for her to do but mourn.

She turned the on shower and stepped into the gentle mist of the water. How refreshing it was! She never thought she would be taking a shower ever again. She breathed deeply as she stood under the blissful showerhead.

She felt the best way to declutter her mind was to write down everything she needed to do or think about. She would need to call her physician and a dentist on Monday to make appointments. Her hair needed to be cut. It was at least ten inches longer and as far as her family knew it had been trimmed only a month ago. She was surprised her grandmother did not mention it; she always took notice of such things. At least a visit to the hair salon was something she could do today.

The duffel and pocketbook which had accompanied her to France were sitting beside her bed, just where she had dropped them a year ago. She charged her phone and mp3, which were now quite dead. Only seconds after plugging in her phone she was alerted to fifteen missed calls, six voicemails, and dozens of texts. She had a few messages from Anne and other friends, but the majority were from Rob. Messages of apology, empty promises, frustration that she was not getting back to him, even one begging her not to tell her parents what he had done.

Rob was a big problem that she had to deal with. If it had merely been hours from their last encounter then she would be calling the police and marching down to the hospital for a rape kit, but the physical injuries had long since healed and she would have no proof. Facing him felt impossible, but a phone call did not seem right either. When she had been pregnant she had so many things to say to him, but mostly she had wished him ill. So much had happened and she had changed so much since, saying such hateful things to him would not do any good. She would never tell him he had got her pregnant. He did not deserve to know.

Right now all she could bring herself to do was text him, "I never want to see you again. Leave me alone." Of course he messaged her right back, but she deleted the message without even reading it. She blocked his number, so at least she would not need to worry about being bothered from that form of communication anymore.

She was hesitant to get behind the wheel to drive to the salon. She knew it was just across town, but somehow she felt nervous. Though she had dreamed of all the things she would once again enjoy if she ever came home, driving being one of her favorite things, this was all too real. Elora managed to get to the salon safely, with five minutes to spare before her appointment. She was lucky that her regular hair dresser was not in, for she would have been taken aback at the startling length of hair before her.

After her hair was fixed to what it had been she made her way to the ballet studio. She needed to order some more shoes, since her last pair had danced their last. Ms. Thomas was in the dance studio when she walked in. Instead of admitting that her shoes were worn out she said they had been damaged while away at school. She gave her credit card and ordered them to her specifications. Dancing today was out of the question, but she promised Ms. Thomas that she would return this week when her new shoes arrived.

As she was driving along the thought moved to the idea that she could be pregnant, but it could be too soon to tell. She immediately ventured to the drug store and bought several home pregnancy tests. Returning home, she was glad the family still had not come back from the cousin's house in Worcester. Sitting in her bathroom, waiting for the strip to show either a plus or minus sign was probably the longest two minutes of her life. Then slowly it became clear. It was a minus she was not pregnant. Though she sighed she was unsure whether she was relieved or not. If she had been pregnant then she would have a piece of Louis with her always. Perhaps her son would even look like him. Yet she knew that being pregnant and single while still in college would be a complication. Everyone would want to know who the father was and would assume it was Rob's. Yes, it was better this way, she thought.

She went through all the books and papers she had brought with her from her dorm. She was taking five courses and a lab this semester. She had a paper to write about communicable disease in conjunction with those in the lower socio-economic population. She also had three big finals that she had already begun preparing for, even though they were not for another four weeks. She also had to look into the course schedule list for next semester and start choosing classes.

It was past nine when she was draw away from her books to her family slamming closed the front door. Between the boy's voices arguing and Dad to Mom and Mémé talking about how Uncle Roger was letting his children run wild, she was wide awake. She heard the boys running up the stairs to their room and Mom yelling to them, reminding them to wash up and brush their teeth.

Elora went to the boy's room and said good night to them and went downstairs to join the parents.

"Elora, are you feeling better?" asked Mom.

She nodded.

Mémé hugged her and asked, "Did you eat the leftovers in the fridge for supper?"

She nodded again. When Dad popped open the bottle of Pinot Noir she was quick to ask, "Dad, may I have a glass of that with you tonight?"

"See Ray, I told you there was something wrong," insisted her mother. "Tell us, Elora."

"Umm…not tonight."

"That's fine, Elora. Paula, I told you not to push the girl," added Dad.

She sat in the living room with the adults listening to their chatter about the family visit today. Dad hesitantly handed her a glass of wine half full. If he only knew she was drinking wine on a daily basis for the past year he would not be so concerned now.

"Elora, you look as if you have lost some weight." Mom loved commenting about her weight.

"Have I?" She looked at herself. She supposed she had. From the ballet, then hardships of being kidnapped she had lost quite a bit, even though she did not have a scale to weigh herself. She had thought after the wedding she would have put it back on, but very often she was too busy to sit and eat comfortably and she had never been one to eat large portions. Louis did mention something about her face looking thinner after she returned from Paris. Again, being busy caring for the sick had left her little time for indulging in delicacies. Not to mention all the sex she had been having must have burned a lot of calories.

"You look fine; there is no need to lose any more."

"I wasn't purposely trying to lose weight, Mom. I'm sure I'll be gaining it back this summer." She thought of all the fried foods, Chinese, sushi, ice cream, and chocolates she had missed for the past year and she was certain she would soon be adding on the pounds. She finished her wine and went upstairs to bed, without contributing anymore to the conversation. She went to bed praying that when she woke she would once again be in Louis' arms, though she knew that would not be the case.

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On Sunday morning the whole family went to church and then on to brunch at the local restaurant they went to every weekend. She forced herself to continue studying for finals for the rest of the day. She could hardly take her mind off Louis and the life of a queen that was no longer hers. Nothing seemed real, but she carried on with what she knew she should do.

Upon calling the doctors on Monday she was lucky with appointments. She would be able to see the dentist and her primary care physician that week.

Her dental appointment the next day was awful as expected. She had run out of toothpaste in October and had gone without it since. It was not like they had fluoride in the 17th century. She had two big cavities and a bunch of watch-areas. She had only even had one cavity before, so her dentist was shocked. She was scolded for neglecting her dental hygiene, but it was not like she could explain to them that she had no access to toothpaste for the past six months.

Next was her doctor's visit. Though she appeared in good health, it was not until two days later when she found out she was wrong. Her PPD test came back positive. This meant she had in fact been exposed to tuberculosis back in Paris. Her doctor was startled by the results and questioned where she had traveled to lately. Labs were drawn to check for pregnancy and it was confirmed she was not pregnant.

By the end of the eventful week she had a most unwanted visitor. She was outside washing her car when Rob pulled up the drive. The only one home was her Mémé who was probably on the back porch napping. Elora headed for the house, but he stopped her before she got to the door.

"Elora, wait." He pulled on her arm, but she jerked it away. She turned to face him directly. Seeing his face and hearing him call her name for the first time brought back memories she wished she had never remembered. This was the boy she had been so crazy about in high school; handsome and popular. Now all she could observe was his boorish features and incredibly loathsome voice.

"We're done, Rob. Just leave me alone."

"How can you say that so quickly? We've been dating for nearly three years."

"Yeah, to my disgust. I told you we were over the other night, but you just couldn't take no for an answer."

He looked at the ground in a guilty manner. "I didn't mean to-"

"Bull shit!" she blurted. "Of course you did!"

"I'm sorry, okay!" he yelled in a forced, angry tone.

"That's not much of an apology after what you put me through."

"Well, if you weren't in such a pissy mood and didn't fight me then you wouldn't-"

She cut him off again, "So it's _my_ fault you raped me!"

"No that's not what I meant! Shit, Elora! Why do you always twist everything? That wasn't rape, you're my girlfriend."

"Whether we were dating or not, when the girl says no that means no. When you rip my clothes and hold me down it's rape, you idiot! So don't you dare try to blame me for this and appear the innocent one."

"You're taking this too far."

"No, this would be taking it too far!" She pulled out her cell phone and let him watch her dial 911. He grabbed the phone from her before she could hit send and threw it across the lawn.

"Real mature, Rob!" As she went to go get it he grabbed her by the wrist. She spun around and punched him in the face as hard as she could. As soon as he released her she ran into the house and locked the door. He banged on the door for a few minutes.

"Leave and maybe I won't call the police on you!"

Mémé had woken and come to her side at this point. They both looked through the curtain to see Rob stomping off in a craze and drive away. Elora was trembling. She could not believe with so much time having passed she would still get so worked up conversing with him.

"What is the commotion, Elora?"

"Nothing, Mémé. Just Rob acting like the asshole he's always been."

"What's all this talk, Elora? I know you have not been happy with your relationship since you started college, but I did not think it would come to this. Do you really want to sever all contact with him?"

"Definitely. He is the most despicable human being I've ever known and I've known quite a few men with immoral tendencies lately. He has offended me in the worst way a man can. I will never speak to him again and with luck I'll never have to see his repulsive face again."

If Louis were here he would have leveled him. If she were still queen she might have said, "Off with your head!" She wished Louis were here to comfort her after such a confrontation.

"Did he hurt you, Elora?"

She took a moment trying to decide how to go about answering her grandmother. "Yes, but please don't ask me about it. Just make sure Mom and Dad know he is not welcome here ever and that I refuse to see him."

"Should we go-"

"No, please just respect my wishes, Mémé."

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The next month at school could not have been more trying on her. Elora felt she had fallen into a depression. She thought being away from the prying eyes of her family and focusing on her studies, she would acquire some peace. She had accepted Louis was gone from her life, though she still grieved. All she wanted to do was go back to the way things were before she met Louis, but she felt there was no going back to her old life. Louis and France had made an imprint on her soul forever. Louis had changed her more than he would ever know. She wondered if Louis were looking on from heaven in awe of her world.

Her best friend and roommate Anne was truly suspect to the changes in her. She questioned her a few times about different things like her weight loss and her speech, even the way she was walking around. Though she trusted Anne with this secret, perhaps more so than her family, she was just not ready to talk about it. The last day they were spending in the dorms after finals was spent packing all their things up to return home. She did not like the idea of having to move all of her things out now only to move them back only three months later, but rules were rules. Even though she was a coronated queen exceptions would not be made for her. She could not help imagining while she packed that if the palace servants were here she would not even have to lift a finger for such a daunting task.

That night she dreamt of Louis and Versailles. Unfortunately, her dream took her into a nightmare consisting of Philippe's betrayal, Sameer's cruelty, and Rob's brutality. Anne shook her, forcing her awake.

"Elora, it's okay! What's wrong with you? You've never had such a nightmare."

"It's nothing."

"If you tell me it's nothing one more time I'm going to smother you with your own pillow. You're acting like a different person. You never talk to anyone anymore or go out for fun. Instead you fill your time with books and exercise. You are always daydreaming. I see you crying when you think no one is looking.–I love you, hun.–Please tell what's happening to you. Is this all because of Rob?"

"Sort of."

"You know you can't keep secrets from me right. Remember how I found out how you didn't like my first boyfriend, Kyle?"

"No. I remember you finding out, but you never told me your source."

"Hun, I hate to tell you this, but you've been talking in your sleep since I've known you. It isn't all the time; only when something is really bothering you."

"But I never thought it made any sense."

"Enough of what you said was in English for me to find out that you have a French boyfriend."

Elora was so shocked she actually slipped off the bed, falling to the floor. "What?"

"I already know."

She could not possibly know. "I…He…You'll think I'm like insane, like commit-me-to-an-institution kind of crazy."

"Do you think you're crazy?" Anne sat on the bed beside Elora.

"I _know_ I'm not crazy."

"Then tell me."

"Promise me you won't tell anyone, even if you don't believe me."

"I promise, Elora. Now tell me."

"Okay.–It all began on the night of April 18th when Rob raped me"

"What!"

"When I went home that night something happened to me."

"What!"

"I suddenly I lost consciousness. When I woke, Anne, I was not at home."

"Where were you?" She looked terrified to hear the answer.

"I woke up in the palace of Versailles in King Louis XIV's bedroom." Elora saw her Anne's jaw drop. Did she believe her? "I swear, Anne. I woke up in the year 1662. I lived there for an entire year."

"Are you saying you time-traveled?" She had that adult tone that was saying "yeah right".

"Yes! It was a miracle."

Anne shook her head. "It was just a dream, Elora."

"I knew you would say that. I can prove it to you. Let me at least tell you about it."

"You really think you can fabricate a story plausible enough for me to believe? You couldn't lie like that to me to save yourself."

"I don't need to make it up because it really happened." Elora assured as she raised her brow. "So King Louis was the one to first see me and wake me up. I totally freaked out. I screamed so loud I'm surprised he didn't have permanent hearing loss. I thought I had been kidnapped. Then he mentioned something about the seventeenth century and he told me what year it was. I ran to the window. It was true. I saw it… seventeenth century France. I was in the Versailles Chateau.–I thought I was dreaming. I mean that was the only explanation. So after sort of convincing myself of the truth I had to explain to Louis that I was from like three-hundred and fifty years in the future. Luckily, I had proof by means of my pocketbook and duffel bag with some of my stuff from college. He believed me, thank goodness. Then he invited me to stay there at the chateau and insisted that no one else should know the truth about me. He made up a cool title for me, the Comtesse de Valréas. Nice, huh.

"Louis tells me I can't wear the clothes I have on so he gives me a floor-length silk gown. After making an unsuccessful pass at me we soon became good friends. He was able to talk to me about things that he never dreamed of telling any other person. And since he knew my secret he was the only one I felt free and comfortable around. He was really good to me too. He paid for everything; dresses, fans, a riding habit, toiletries, even a servant. I gradually adjusted myself to life in the 1662. I learned their dances and ate their food. I went to parties.

"I did make a small group of friends. Thérèse was sweet and demure everything well brought up lady should be, yet she could sometimes be mischievous and was always a lot of fun. Then there was her brother, Chris. He was a duc. Thérèse's boyfriend was Cesaire. They were like the most popular courtiers at Versailles. They were rich and powerful, where I was just a foreigner with a fake title and no connections. They still accepted me into their group though."

"You sound like you were happy."

"Oh yes, I doubt I will ever love anything as much as I loved Versailles."

"What else happened?"

"I took care of Louis when he got sick. Those 17th century doctors were really clueless about a lot of stuff." She really did not want to share that she had been pregnant and lost the baby. Maybe in another conversation later she might. "Oh and Chris proposed, but I turned him down."

"A boy asked you to marry him?"

"I thought we were just friends. Then all of a sudden after only two months he's in love with me. He never even kissed me, but wanted to spend the rest of his life with me as his wife. Crazy man!"

"Elora, you are a sweetie. Of course he fell in love."

"Oh Anne!" Elora hugged Anne. "I'm so glad you believe me."

"I'm not saying that I believe you. I'm just going along with this madness to see where you're gonna go with it."

"Then the inevitable happened; I began to fall in love."

"With Chris?"

"No, with Louis. I realized his sincere affection looking back on all of his kind actions and all the moments and conversations we had together. So we started dating."

"You were dating the king of France?"

"Yes, I fell deeply in love with Louis. We did everything together, shared everything with each other. I finally began to understand why God brought me there." Elora unlocked her desk draw and removed a small box. She brought it with her back to bed next to Anne. "It was not long after that Louis, King of all France, asked me to marry him…and I said yes." Elora opened the box and removed her engagement ring.

Anne nearly fell off the bed this time. "Holy shit! That's the biggest emerald I've ever seen." She snatched the ring from her. "Elora, this cannot be real!"

"Anne, haven't you been listening to anything I've said. Louis gave me this ring. A king, Anne! He asked me to be his wife and the queen of France." It was not like they made cubic zirconium in 1662.

"It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No, it was real. These people were real and I was dropped into their world. I actually lived in the past."

"Wicked!–A king was in love with my best friend. Did you marry? Were you a queen?"

"In the months before the wedding there was so much drama with broken engagements, intrigue, accidents, attempted murder, and kidnapping. I'll tell you about all that later. After it all, Louis and I were married on New Year's Day at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. It was the perfect wedding."

"I wish I could have been there to see you get married."

"I wish you could have been there too. It was incredibly beautiful.–I was also coronated queen that day."

"You mean you don't just automatically become queen marrying the king?"

"Oh no. It's a long and tedious ceremony."

"And here's my signet ring. I really should have left them at home, but I couldn't be parted with them, though I can no longer wear them. I like to take them out when I'm alone and missing Louis."

"If your wedding was in January, then you only knew him for nine months. Did you love him that much?"

"Well, when I met him I never imagined he would be the love of my life. Actually I really didn't like him when we met. He was so arrogant and conniving at the beginning, but as time passed he changed into a good man. I could see it in his actions and dealings with others. He stopped seeing me as a piece of meat and he grew to respect me. The more we saw of each other the more our passions grew. Our love for each other is not something that can simply be described in words. It is as if God designed us for one another, like we were two halves of one soul. You would have to see us together to fully understand how perfect we were for each other. We brought out the best in one another. He was my soul mate." Her eyes began to burn with tears.

"Elora, now I know what is different about you. You're all grown up.–What was it like to be queen?"

"Well, it wasn't a cushy job. I mean it had its perks like the finest dresses, crown jewels, everyone bowing down to you. But then there was no privacy. The gowns were stifling in the warm weather. The corsets were rib breaking. The big, expensive jewelry though beautiful was extremely heavy. One night I wore these ruby earrings like the size of cherries and my ears were bleeding by the end of the night. Having to meet with everyone and be courteous and smiling the entire time was sometimes tedious. The days were long. It wasn't all fun and parties."

"But you still loved it?" Anne scrunched up on the bed next to her.

"Definitely, it was challenging, but I had Louis. We were always helping each other. It was very fulfilling leading a country. I could have done it all my life, but God had to send me back here."

"Yes, that's right. You're back here; so what happened?"

"Well, we were married for nearly four months. The same day in April that God sent me there and exactly a year later to the day was when He sent me back. I was with Louis in our bed. Then it happened." Tears cascaded from her eyes. "We only had moments to say our goodbyes. Within minutes my life fell apart. My husband who was so young and full of life only moments before was now dead. He died of old age and I was not there with him. I was left to mourn him, without being able to tell anyone what I was suffering; what I am still suffering."

"Oh, Elora!" The friends embraced. Anne patted her on the back warmly, reassuring her.

"Anne, I cannot take it anymore. I was settled in the 17th century. I had started a life there. I was married. I still love Louis so much. Now I am a widow. My life is so empty without him. I'm having such a hard time adjusting myself back to this life."

"Give it time, sweetie. Grieving someone you were so close to must be torture. You just need someone to bring meaning back into your life again."

"I can't bear the thought of someone replacing the affection I hold for Louis. The more I look around here I feel no one will ever match him."

"Do not set you standards so high then."

"I can't help it."

"Elora," she clicked her tongue and hugged her again. "I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"I'm so glad I told you, Anne!" She clasped her hands together. "After being back in the 21st century for twenty-seven days, seventeen hours, and thirty-one minutes I've finally come to a decision how to proceed. I'm going back to Versailles if kills me. Want to come with me?"

**ooOoo**

**Dear Readers,**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 39! I tried to end this chapter on a happy note. There is still so much more to be revealed!**

**Will do my best to update soon! Thank you for your continued support and all your encouraging words. As always, I appreciate feedback! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**God bless, **

**L.B. Tempia**


	40. Chapter 40

19

CHAPTER 40

Elora had asked Anne if she would go back to Versailles with her. Anne had misunderstood her though. She had believed she was going to try to find a means to travel back in time again, when in fact Elora meant to only travel to France this summer. Louis was not in the twenty-first century, but Versailles was. After clarifications were made Anne was in agreement to go with her.

She wanted to leave right then, but she could not. It would take a month just to get a passport. The amount of money needed to get there was also an issue. All of her money was tied up with college bills. She would have to pull everything from her emergency savings. There was no way she could get there any earlier than July.

She had obligations to work her medical assistant job at the doctor's office. She was glad she did not have to deal with whooping cough anymore. She had dealt with enough of that to last her a lifetime. It was thirty hours a week; so with the money made working through May and June she should have enough.

"Elora, you sure about this?" asked Anne as they went through a travel book of France. "Can we really survive three weeks in a foreign country?"

"I know we can and we'll have a blast doing it!"

"Honestly, I did not think you would want such a trip. Isn't it too soon? You just lost him a couple of months ago. Don't you think the wounds are just too new for you to go back there?"

"I get your point, but I was torn away so quickly I never really bid goodbye to the old place."

"It must be so different now."

"Probably, but Louis was going to leave something for me."

"Like a treasure?"

"Something like that." She shrugged her shoulders. "It is my hope he left a note of how he fared after I left."

"What makes you so sure anything will still be there?"

"It's in a secret place only we knew of. There's a good chance it's still there."

"Hmm.–Now you're positive you can speak French well enough?"

"Given, it has not been my primary language for the past three months, I've still been conversing with Mémé nearly every day in French."

"And she didn't think anything was weird. I swear, Elora, I don't know how you do it. How can you not tell your parents about everything that happened? I know I couldn't keep it from them if it were me."

"It's hard keeping it from them, but I think it's for the best. Mémé has been the most suspicious. I think she knows more than I've told her, but she doesn't push it anymore. She cannot understand how my vocabulary practically quadrupled overnight.–Anne, you should be more excited about France. For goodness sake you're an art major who's been talking about the Louvre since we were in middle school."

"That's true I have been dying to see _The Raft of the Medusa _with my own eyes, among other extraordinary works there."

ooOoo

Now she just had to break her travel plans to her parents. After supper while they were still eating dessert she began, "So I'm planning a little trip with Anne this summer."

"Oh really, dear, where did you want to go?" asked her mother.

"France."

Mémé choked on her coffee. "Elora, do have any idea how expensive that will be?"

"Yes, we've already applied for the passports. As soon as I get the passports I will be booking a flight and hotel online. I already crunched the numbers and I have enough money. "

"Elora, why didn't you ask us about this?" Her mother's voice reached the volume where even the neighbors would tell she was agitated. "We have not even discussed it and you have planned all of that. There is no rush for you to go there. You'll have plenty of time when you're older. What exactly is this sudden interest in France?"

"I've always wanted to go and I see no reason to delay further. I have the means and I am old enough. I didn't think I needed your permission."

"You don't," continued her mother not leaving her father to even say a word. "But we thought you would trust our opinions on this."

"I respect you opinions, but I cannot agree with them. Please support my decision. I need to go."

She left her family to go upstairs. She wished they would just support her. If she could only bring herself to tell them the reason for such a trip, but it seemed too late now. Anne was correct such a trip would be painful in so many ways, but because Louis loved Versailles so much and it had been their home, it felt as if a little of him must still be alive at Versailles today. She knew she was still trying to grasp at what was already gone; she could not help herself nevertheless. Seeing Versailles again was her dearest wish, even though she knew it would be quite different with so many years passing.

ooOoo

Elora got her wish when her passport arrived in the mail. Everything came together nicely, like going there was meant to be. Her parents gave way and gave her a list of souvenirs to purchase. Anne grew in excitement with her as the days grew closer to their departure.

During the trans-Atlantic plane ride Elora daydreamed about her chateau in Versailles. It had been 350 years. She hoped its splendor had not altered too much. Only now she worried if Louis had forgotten his promise to her. Perhaps he had moved on after she was gone and found leaving her something to be unimportant.

They landed in Paris and settled into their hotel that night. Bright and early the next day, frightfully hung over with jet-lag, they were off to Versailles. Elora could hardly bear the excitement. The twenty minute train ride from Paris to Versailles had been a joy compared to the half day's journey on horseback. They exited the train, walking briskly up the street.

As they turned left her chateau came into view. In an instant it seemed they were at the gates of Versailles. She had almost forgotten its majestic grandeur; it was as if she was walking through a dream. How she loved this place and the portion of her life she had lived here. She wished it could be Louis and hers once again.

She soon became overwhelmed with the masses of people pushing past and taking photos of her home. It ate at her soul that this lovely place which was once so animate with court life and a home to so many was now reduced to a lifeless edifice of historical importance, a mere tourist trap.

She promised Anne a real tour, but she first had someplace specific in mind. Today was not a day to reminisce; they had a specific task at hand. With an empty backpack on her back, the two of them entered the chateau. Elora led the way as they walked down the grand halls. She noted none of the original furniture was left and a lot of redecorations had been made. She hardly recognized this place that was not long ago her home.

They finally came to the king's bedchamber. Now this room looked familiar. It was nearly identical to what it had been 350 years ago. All the glimmer and gold still remained.

She turned to Anne, "You ready?"

"Yes!"

Anne seemed excited, yet nervous as they waited for a Chinese tour group to leave the room. Their calculated plan was about to begin. Anne followed the group from the room, walking past one of the chateau workers. Anne entered Antechamber and began taking pictures of everything in the room with her flash on and at the same time blocking other visitors from entering the King's Bedchamber. The worker was quick to leave her post to go tell Anne to turn off her flash.

In the meantime, Elora used her laser penlight to blind the security camera for the ten seconds she needed to get through the secret door. After closing the heavy door promptly she whipped out her LED flashlight from her backpack. The passage seemed like it had been forgotten for a good number of years. Even if the current staff knew of it, they certainly were not making much use of it. From the ceiling hung cobwebs and years of dead bugs accented the inch of dust and soot covering the floor. The thick, hot air was so musty.

She came to the end of the passage to where Louis had showed her. She gathered up all her strength to pull out the stone, but she could not get it out for it was now cemented. She finally got the stone out by chipping away at the old cement with her flashlight. Elora pulled out the stone and there it was, the five hundred year old latch. She turned it and a door, which had just a moment ago been a wall, slowly swung open.

As Elora moved the small circular light around the room she saw, sitting in the dust-covered room an accent table from her old room. There was a candelabrum on the table with matches waiting for her. She was not worried when the matches did not light, likely due to 300 years of moisture, for she had brought a lighter just in case. Every candle she lit illuminated the room little by little. When the entire room was alight she saw a covered mannequin and her hope chest as well.

Elora gently pulled off the sheet covering the mannequin. Now revealed was her wedding gown. She touched the frail, discolored gown. How it seemed like just yesterday she was walking down the aisle at Notre Dame. There was a square cedar box sitting on the table, which intrigued her and she opened it with excitement. Into focus came what she had been dying for; a letter from Louis. She broke the seal and unfolded it.

_To the queen of my heart, _

_Since you are reading this, you are back where the Lord wanted you. You must be overflowing with joy to be reunited with your loving family. I pray your honorable father and mother were not missing you for long. You have been gone barely a fortnight, yet I can still smell your soft scent on the pillow beside me. When I woke this morning I thought you were still in Paris tending to some diseased patient…like you were not actually gone, merely away._

_I had your funeral arranged soon after you left. It was a success and perhaps the only one suspicious about your circulated demise was Philippe. Our Morlaix cousins received your letters well and were relieved from the not so tragic turn events. I have sent your maidservant to Chartres to live comfortably as you wished for her. As I sit here I feel I could go writing on and on to you and do nothing else with my kingship, but I must go on, as Colbert is banging at my door even now for some reason or another._

_See the small chest beside you. Open it._

Elora paused to open the chest. It was filled with precious jewels and gold coins. She could not imagine its value in this century. "Oh Louis, I knew you would do something like this."

_I told you, you would continue to live like the queen that you are. In the trunk there is a few items of sentiment that I thought should be reunited with you once again._

She opened the trunk that contained: a dozen or so boxes of her favorite jewelry, her letters, her royal seal, Philippe's rosary and several of her favorite books. In there was another cedar box, with no doubt another happy surprise. Encased was a handsome portrait of Louis! Elora fell to her knees holding Louis' portrait in one hand and the letter in the other.

_I really thought I would have had you for all time, but it was not God's will. I feel our love is so powerful; it is as if we carry around a part of each other, so we are really never apart. Elora, I think I will love you forever. I told you never to forget that, but you need to live life without me. Do not be unhappy, as I know you have been. I want you to find someone else. As you encouraged me, I must do the same; you need to remarry and have the children we always wanted to have. Live your life to the fullest, for you only have one life to live. Your dreams and your accomplishments are mine as well as yours. _

_I love you. When you read this I will already be awaiting you in heaven. We shall be together again._

_Forever yours,_

_Louis_

Thinking back on all her memories of Louis she began to cry. Every smile, every kiss, every caress seemed to mean more now. She had taken advantage of all those beautiful things. She focused in on one word he had written: _remarry_. It seemed strained, like he could not bear to write it. Perhaps she was just deflecting her own feelings though.

Elora took her time packing the precious items. Her gown practically fell to pieces as she packed it away. The small chest was incredibly heavy, but she packed it away all the same. Soon she had stripped the room of its treasures. Now she had two backpacks completely full and weighing a heap.

She stood in the passage by the hidden door and called Anne's phone. She was supposed to be waiting in the Hall of Mirrors for her call. Now she was to return to the King's Bedchamber to make similar distractions as before. Anne voice trembled as she stated she was once again ready. As Elora exited the hidden hall into the bedroom she could hear a woman yelling in French, "No, you cannot take pictures in this room. Turn off the camera!" And Anne simultaneously saying in English, "Lady, I don't know what you're talking about! I'm just trying to take a couple pictures!"

With one pack on Elora's back and the other hanging over her shoulder she passed by Anne with a wink. They met up outside at the inner courtyard. Elora was quick to hand off one of the heavy packs to Anne. They made it out of Versailles and back to the hotel with the loot. She would never have admitted it to Anne, lest she make her more nervous, but she had been terribly afraid of being caught.

When Elora gently unpacked the backpacks, Anne actually fell off the bed this time. She was quite pale from shock. "Shit, Elora! Look at all this! This is impossible!"

Did that mean Anne thought she was lying up until this point? "It's not impossible, just improbable."

She let Anne try on some of her jewelry as she shared the story of Louis' proposal. She flipped through some old letters from Thérèse and Chris, as she twirled Philippe's gold rosary in her hand. It was a comfort to have some of her things back again.

"Elora!" Anne exclaimed. Her hand was in the small chest of gold and jewels. "Come look at this! You're going to die!"

She hopped off her bed to Anne. She looked into the chest. With the contents pushed aside she could see something metallic glittering at the bottom. She began scooping out the coins and jewels. At the bottom of the chest were two, unmarked gold bars.

"Elora you're really rich!" Anne screamed. They both laughed in a giddy manner. Louis just loved surprising her!

ooOoo

Returning to Versailles the next day Elora felt more at ease and apt to soak in the atmosphere of the place she used to call home. She was disappointed that only remnants of Louis' world were left. The interior of the chateau had been so beautiful as it was, why did they have to change most everything? This architect, Louis-Philippe had destroyed dozens of the chambers the courtiers resided in and made them into a hall of history called the Battles Gallery. She resented the fact that he had destroyed part of her home to make a long wall commemorating battle victories. The room where she lived when she was a comtesse was now only a picture of Napoleon in some battle! Marie-Antoinette had completely redecorated the queen's chambers too. Everything was gaudy flower-bouquet embroidery. The chapel where they assembled for morning mass and saw Thérèse and Cesaire marry had been made into a drawing room. It was all too much. It felt like only the gardens had remained intact.

They bumped into an English speaking tour group in the 17th century rooms of the north wing. She was not paying much attention to the guide until she heard her name mentioned.

"Her Majesty, Queen Elora died at twenty years old after less than a year of marriage, before producing any children for the crown. Little remains of this queen and even less is known of her. This is a letter written by Queen Elora to Prince Philippe, Duc d'Orléans, dating back to the year 1662. It was found in a book dating back to that decade. It was written before her marriage to King Louis XIV."

Elora drew closer to read the framed letter on the wall.

_Dear Philippe,_

_I apologize whole-heartedly that I cannot accept your offer. Even though I would much like to, I have already made a promise to the king. Louis would be quite put out with me if I refused. Ask me again after the wedding and we will set a date._

_ Elora Roux, Comtesse de Valréas_

Such an inconsequential note to be the only salvaged in her memory, she was more than a little disappointed.

"It is believed," continued the guide, "that in this letter she refused Prince Philippe's marriage proposal because she preferred to wed King Louis instead. Here she clearly states after her wedding she will set up a rendezvous for an affair with the prince."

Elora could not hold in a laugh; it burst out uncontrollably. "What nonsense!" she blurted in French. She remembered writing that letter to Philippe, but certainly not with that intention.

The crowd parted so the guide could find out what she spoke of. "Madame, if you please, I am…"

The French guide suddenly got a good look at her. All at once his voice was lost, his jaw dropped open, and his clipboard fell out of his hands to the ground. As he bent to pick it up almost looked like he bowed. Did he recognize her? She could not think of how that could be possible.

Her response to his obeisance was to bend her head down. She then bid him come to her; speaking in French, "You are mistaken, Monsieur, about the meaning of that note. The prince had asked her to go riding with him for the day, but Elora couldn't because she had already promised to do something with King Louis. She really had no time for social engagements because she was busy with the wedding coordinator. She promised, after the wedding when everything had settled down at court, to go riding with him. So you see, they were never planning an affair."

All the guide could manage to squeak was, "Are you her ghost?"

She smiled. "What a funny thing to say. I'm a bit of a French history aficionado. I'm sorry to have disturbed your tour. I will trouble you no further."

He seemed hesitant to look away and continue on. "Perhaps we may speak after I finish with this group."

They agreed to meet back in that same spot after fifteen minutes. Anne and she lingered by the new chapel, waiting for the guide to return. The large chapel was certainly something they had needed while she was there; too bad it was not built until the end of the century.

Anne had been shocked with Elora speaking out to a stranger. Though Anne could not understand what had been said between the two she did observe that the guide seemed to recognize her. Elora found that very interesting that Anne noticed too.

Anne mentioned something about maybe they had seen them yesterday on security camera stealing the stuff and they were going to arrest them now. Elora did not think that the case. It was the bow that got her attention. He knew her. He asked her if she was a ghost, which meant he must have recognized her from the past.

The guide returned in a timely manner. He looked about their age, like this was just a summer job for him. She thought it would be cool to live around here and show people around her old home for a living. Maybe if med school did not work out she could come back here and make a living in the house she loved.

"Might I introduce myself? I am David Rothan."

"Bonjour, David." She knew she should truthfully tell him her name, but she could not bring herself to scare him more, especially since he already recognized her.

"I found what you said about that letter rather amazing. What makes you so certain of your conclusion of the letter's meaning?"

"Well, what makes you certain of secret rendezvous' and affairs?"

"I must say you resemble her greatly."

She just loved how he kept coming back to that…not really. "How would you know?" She peered at him.

"There is a painting that we have just completed restoration of."

"A painting you say?" Now she remembered! There was painting! After the honeymoon Louis sent for the royal painter, Le Brun to create a portrait of them to hang in his council room. Elora had to stand in her wedding gown and crown for a good three hours while he sketched and another four while he painted the base color. She had never seen the final creation. "You mean the wedding portrait of Queen Elora with King Louis?"

"Why, yes. You know if it? This particular painting has not yet been revealed to the public. It will be put on display in a month for the celebration of King Louis XIV's birthday. It has not hung in Versailles in over two hundred years. How could you–"

"Well it's a little more than a month until his birthday and we will not be visiting for that long. May I see it now?"

"Elora, what's going on?" Anne whispered to her, but the guide heard.

"Your name is Elora?"

She shifted nervously. "Yes. Quite a coincidence."

"You are named after the queen you resemble. I find that most curious."

"So what do you think about taking me to see the painting?"

"I do not think I have the clearance."

"Oh, I'm sure you could pull a few strings for me just to take a peek at it. I'd just give anything to see it. Please!"

His eyes looked her up and down as he thought about it. Finally he said, "If you could tell me a few more things about Queen Elora that is not commonly known."

"Agreed!"

David quietly led them down the halls toward the south wing. She updated Anne who was quite excited she was going to see a picture of Queen Elora with her husband on her wedding day.

"Here we are," said David. "We can only stay for a minute."

Conveniently, there was no one else in the room to bother them. They came to the painting seated on an easel with a clear plastic sheet protecting it. Even before David removed the sheet she could see it was breathtaking. She and Louis were standing next to one another. Louis' arms were wrapped around her waist and her hand was to his cheek as they smiled lovingly at each other.

"Oh," sighed Elora. "How beautiful it came out."

"You must admit the resemblance is remarkable," spoke David.

"No, her nose is a lot longer than mine and she's at least twenty pounds thinner and my hair is certainly lighter than hers." So she was stretching the truth a bit, but she would use anything to detach David from the idea of both Elora's being the same.

"Oh Elora," Anne cried. "How beautiful! King Louis is quite a hottie! He looks so in love," Anne felt it necessary to wink at her, furthering David's suspicions.

While Anne was admiring the brush strokes, Elora was busy taking pictures of the painting with her camera. She hoped she could get a print or replica of it someday. More so, she wished she could take it home with her today. She would have traded all those jewels Louis left her for it.

"Mademoiselles, we must go."

"Of course." How long she had been standing there she could not be certain. After wiping away a few tears she turned around to follow him out. "So David, if you had one question to ask Queen Elora, what would it be?"

"Where did she come from? I mean, we know that she was a French Comtesse before she became queen, but we have no record of her family lineage."

"Did you ever think the reason you have no information about the Valréas line is because it was fabricated?"

David questioned what she meant.

"Imagine for a moment you are King Louis. Don't you think you would find it a refreshing change if you met a young woman who did not know who you were or even care if you were a king and what if she brushed you off? That's why Louis fell in love with Elora. She was from a humble, respectable family; noble in everything but name. Louis wanted her by his side, so he created a title and patents of nobility. Since he was king no one would dare doubt his word that she was a Comtesse."

"I am astonished. You are surely inventing it all, but for some reason I believe you."

"Perhaps I'm just a convincing person."

"Or perhaps you are Queen Elora."

She was certain she had a look of terror before she laughed amusingly, trying to brush off his claim.

"Will you tell me more?" he asked.

"Sorry, you have no more paintings to trade with." She smiled at Anne.

"Wait! Just one more question, please. How did Queen Elora die?"

All at once she became overwhelmed. She was unsure of how to answer. She understood how Louis must have felt having to explain her death after she was gone. "It was early morning, even before the servants were moving about. Louis and she had just woken. One moment they were smiling and pleasantly chatting, the next she lost all her strength and grew dizzy. She could feel the life draining from her as Louis held her. She thought if she could only keep holding him and keep her eyes fixed on him God wouldn't take her. Yet the darkness overcame her and…she died."

"Most tragic," he spoke with deep sympathy.

"Yes, I think so as well." She could not bear to speak to him further. She had kept her countenance until now, but if she said one more thing about Louis and their life she knew she would burst into tears and not be able to stop. "I have answered your questions, so thank you and goodbye." She walked off arm and arm with Anne.

Over the next two days Elora showed Anne everything she loved in the chateau and told how it used to look. She told her of all her memories happy and sad.

They spent the rest of the vacation at all the common tourist locations in France. Lourdes was a spiritual experience. La Salette was terrifying to travel to up on the mountain with all its hairpin turns, but well worth it. Lisieux was lovely and told an uplifting story of Saint Thérèse. She made it a point to travel to St. Denis to visit Louis' grave. She took her time praying there and left flowers beside his tomb.

They both knew traveling home would be something of a challenge. Elora could not have been more anxious about taking home her fortune. She had not been sure what she would do with so many valuables since she first saw them in Versailles. After finding the two gold bars she knew they were doomed.

It was stupid to imagine keeping it all forever. Louis had given it to her to obviously sell so she might have money for other things. Yet he certainly had no idea how difficult it would be for her to travel country to country, not to mention selling it. She did not know for certain how much money it would all fetch, but between the fifty gold coins, fifty jewels of various sizes, and the two heavy gold bars she was pretty certain she was now a millionaire.

It was Anne who came up a good idea. All she needed was some paint supplies. Elora asked the concierge desk at the hotel and they were quick to give them an address of an art supply store. Over the next couple of days she painted over the gold bars some nice French scenes making them appear as if they had been purchased as an inexpensive souvenir. They each placed on in their carry-on bags for the journey home. Elora hoped it would fool just enough where no one at the airport would get suspicious.

Elora put the jewelry in her travel bag encased in souvenir boxes lest anyone get suspicious, along with the two gold bars. She put all the loose jewels in a cloth bag in her sweater pocket. The gold coins she split with Anne and put into their change purses with other coins. She would not lose her fortune because airport security found a pile of gold and jewels in her checked suitcase. Elora said a silent prayer to get through safely the whole time they were in the airport. They got through after all and she shared a glass of wine with Anne on the plane. As they sat cramped in coach Elora was regretting not selling some gold in Paris and upgrading their plane seats to first-class.

From being at Versailles again and reading Louis' letter Elora finally had the closure she needed. It was high time to move on now that she had Louis' blessing. When she thought she could never be at peace again, his words comforted her. Time would not stand still for her, at least not anymore. Elora decided she was going to grow up and live a happy life as Louis wanted for her.

**ooOoo**

**Dear Readers,**

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter 40! This chapter was particularly difficult for me to write. I'm not so good about writing in the contemporary world. I am quite certain there will only be one more chapter I will be writing, then this story will be complete. **

**Will do my best to update soon! Thank you for your continued support and all your encouraging words. As always, I appreciate feedback! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**God bless, **

**L.B. Tempia**


	41. Chapter 41

19

Chapter 41

After four years of rooming with Anne she was sadly on her own when she went off to med school. She had enough money, thanks to Louis, to have her own apartment in the city. She had never lived alone, but found it peaceful through the solitude. Anne was a frequent visitor though, especially tending to crash at her place on Friday nights after partying in the city.

Anne had been dating this guy, Joe, for over a year now. They were really happy and Elora could tell just by seeing them together that their relationship was the kind that would last. As soon as things started going well for Anne she started making comments about Elora needing a boyfriend too.

Nothing made her more anxious than thinking about replacing Louis. Ever since her breakup with Rob, her parents had been pressing her to date again, but Anne had always been understanding and never pushed her. Anne had allowed her to be the grieving widow ever since she found out about Louis, but now Anne said it was about time she begin looking for someone new.

Joe had this friend who he thought was a good match for her for some reason or another. Elora had to tell her that she was not interested. She honestly felt no desire to start dating again and it was not because she was still hoping to be reunited with Louis. She had come to terms that Louis was in her past and not to expect him back in her life. For the most part all the guys she met throughout college she had no interest in. Anne said she just never gave anyone a chance. She rationalized that she was too busy with school to be dating.

So she continued to lose herself in her school work. Becoming a doctor was her primary focus. She would be a doctor of general medicine if it killed her. The first term she had been invited to join a study group with her classmates, but was not inclined to do so. She studied much better in a solitary atmosphere. She soon gained a reputation of being a loner, but she did not care.

On the three year anniversary of her return to the present century she found herself at school with a full day of classes ahead of her. Sometimes the memory of the day she was torn from Louis was so vivid she would lose herself in despair. She had woken this morning in such a state. No one around her could understand her pain. Her classmates knew her only as a young, unattached woman striving towards the same goal as them. Little did they know she was not only a grieving widow, but a 17th century royal unable to let go of the past.

Suffering through a flood of painful emotions she still managed to force herself to go to the university. She could not slack, not even today. This was med school after all. Her professors and classmates would hardly notice if she were less talkative today. If she got through the day without having to directly interact with anyone she would be grateful. She had some free time in the early afternoon between classes, which she took advantage of to review her lab notes in the gazebo outside.

"You're Elora Roux, right?" came a masculine voice from in front of her. She peered up through her sunglasses to see who it was. The sun was bright behind him, but she looked at him none the less. He sounded like an old professor with his British accent, but he could not be much older than she and he was dressed in a polo shirt with a pop-collar and jeans so she knew he could not be one. She had heard of this British guy. All the girls, even in her class were crushing on him.

She tipped her head to block out the sun a bit more and asked, "Why do you ask?

"Well, I've seen you before in the laboratory. You see, I have a class directly after you. I sit at the same table in fact."

She was unimpressed up to this point. "You don't look familiar. What are you, an upperclassman?"

"Yes, a year ahead of you, I believe. I'm Peter Winthrop."

"You seem to know an awful lot about me, Peter Winthrop."

"Well…I…" he stuttered.

"What do you want?" she sighed and put down her notes.

"Have you not noticed something of yours has gone missing?"

Could he be dragging this conversation on any longer than this! "Obviously not. What do you mean?"

He held up his stethoscope. Wait, it was _her _stethoscope! "You left it behind in the laboratory. I was just doing you a favor popping out here after you."

"Geez, I didn't even know it was gone." She stood to take the stethoscope, but he drew his hand away. "Is there something else you wanted?" she asked, becoming annoyed.

"I was thinking now that we've met you would fancy accompanying me to the dining hall."

"I thought you said you had the lab after me. Don't you have to get to class?"

She had taken him aback, she knew, for he was hesitating to say, "Well, the study does not begin for another twenty minutes."

She nodded and said, "No."

"No?" he questioned.

"Yes, my answer to your request is no. I do not want to have lunch with you."

"But all the girls want–"

Heavens, the arrogance just dripped from this guy. She was too old to be dealing with a superficial guy like this. "You must think you're hot shit just because you're wearing $200 sunglasses and rockin' the British accent. I mean do girls really fall for that _fancy popping _into the_ laboratory _nonsense?" So she just made fun of his accent and foreign phrasing, but she really felt this guy needed a reality check.

Peter ripped off his sunglasses at such a remark. Suddenly something about him struck her. His face, no his eyes…they were so familiar. She flinched when she recognized that his eyes were exactly like Louis'. For more than a moment, after looking into Peter's eyes she was certain it was Louis she saw standing before her. With an audible gasp she fell back onto the bench where she had been sitting. She very nearly fainted. Her eyes shifted from Louis for a second and when she looked back up at him she again saw Peter.

"What is it?" he questioned, sounding off his game.

She shook her head as if that would clear its confusion. "It is just…" she began breathlessly as she came out of her daze. Peter suddenly attracted her and terrified her all at once. "Nothing," she finished nervously.

Before Peter could say another word she grabbed the stethoscope from him and walked away toward the library, without turning back or even saying another word. She could not make sense of what had just happened. That guy had Louis' eyes. Was it the Devil's idea of a cruel joke? She would have sworn Louis had just been standing there. This was exactly why she should have stayed home today. She should not have pushed herself, for now she knew she was not up for school.

She skipped her last class and rushed to her favorite refuge when life became too overwhelming: church. She gripped her wedding ring, which she had on a gold chain hanging from here neck as she kneeled in prayer in the front pew. It was there she remained until hours later when physical exhaustion from kneeling for so long hit her. She went home and cried, regretting the day.

ooOoo

As the semester drew to a close summer came into full swing. Anne had finally convinced her to go on that blind date. She and Anne had gotten ready for the double-date together. She really thought Anne only insisted on coming with her because she did not believe she would come on her own. The four of them were to meet at their favorite hang out, Gurdmann's Bar & Grill.

"Anne, so have you met this guy that Joe's so insistent upon?"

"No, well, maybe once, I think, at a party. If I remember right he was really sexy hot."

"And what exactly do you know about him?"

"Not much, just like I told you before. He's been friends with Joe for a few years. I think he's two years older than you 'cause he's about to finish up med school. So you two should have a lot in common."

Just because they chose the same profession did not mean they would get along, but Elora was willing to give it a chance.

Upon walking into the bar area with Anne she literally bumped into one of her classmates. It was that obnoxious, British upperclassman. His familiar gaze still gave her chills. After turning him down at that one meeting she had basically been treated like a pariah by her classmates. She did not know what he had said about her, but she experienced the stinging after effects. She did not like him at all.

She looked at him with distaste as she passed him toward the bar. "Not even a hello," she heard him say.

She turned around. "Maybe you haven't gotten my subtle hints, so I'll just put it words that you'll understand. _Sod off_!"

"Elora," began Anne anxiously.

"Oh Anne, never mind him. Let's keep going."

"But Elora…"

Joe walked up to the three of them. "I see you guys have already met."

"What?" asked both Elora and Peter at once.

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Elora," cried Anne. "I recognize him from that party."

"Wait, this is the guy you're setting me up with?" She covered her eyes with her hand. This was a disaster. The one guy in her whole school she really could not stand. "Did you know about this?" she demanded of Peter.

"I just knew Joe wanted me to meet his girl's friend. I didn't know it was you."

"Oh, so you two already know each other?" Joe chucked. "That's a riot! See Anne, how good I am at this matchmaking thing." Anne nodded with little conviction.

They were dragged to the table by Anne and Joe. Through most of the meal there was awkward silence that Anne and Joe did their best to keep conversation up. After Elora's first cocktail she grew emboldened to speak. "So Peter, how did you end up across the pond?"

"Me mum and da moved here for work when I was fourteen and we've been here since."

"Ah."

"Elora," began Joe. "I think you will get a kick out of this story Peter was telling me. I guess there's this girl he goes to school with. She's one of those brainy, antisocial, teacher's pet types. Peter goes out of his way and returns something to her and she totally throws him over. Ever since he catches her staring him down, looking at him all disappointed, like she regretted passing him over."

Elora looked fiercely towards Peter who lowered his eyes guiltily as he punched Joe's arm.

"She sounds crazy, huh Elora." Joe continued, "Do you know who she is?"

"No." she replied, standing up at once. "Not by that description, but she sounds like a real weirdo. This date is over. I'm leaving."

"But Elora, you have not gotten your dessert yet," reasoned Anne.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to match the antisocial character I am described as."

"Elora, is he the guy you were telling me about?" Anne began to understand the situation and darted a dissatisfied look at Peter. She stared into his eyes intently. "Wow, you were right he really does have his eyes! That's creepy."

If Anne only knew how painful it had been seeing those beautiful eyes on such a kid who was nothing like the man she loved. She hated looking at him, but at every chance she got she could not help but stare. It was strangely like Louis was there with her, when she focused on those eyes. It was so much more real than all the paintings she had of Louis.

There was nothing else to say so Elora left. Peter ran after her outside and stopped her on the sidewalk. "Don't worry, you'll never catch me staring at you again." She jerked his hand off her arm and continued walking.

"I did not say that about you."

"Yet somehow that's what Joe interpreted."

"That is no fault of mine. You know how Joe exaggerates things.–You must forgive me if your feelings were injured."

"Must I?" The day after she met him back in April she had wanted to find him to apologize for her strange behavior. Then she found out after the stares and whispers all morning how he had trash talked her and she no longer felt like apologizing. Yet now as she looked him over, he truly did look penitent. Perhaps she was being too harsh.

"Well Peter, I suppose it was not entirely your fault. You could not have known that the first day we spoke I was quite overcome with grief, which was why I was so short with you."

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"Yes. And I have been staring at you a lot. I am sorry about that too."

"Who exactly do I look like?"

"A relative that passed away a few years ago."

"Are we really that similar?"

"Not really. You don't exactly look like him. It's just your eyes that are similar."

"Might we start over? I would really like to be your friend."

"Why do you want to be friends with me? From what I hear you are quite popular with all the girls at the university. From what I've seen, they seem to be dying for your attention. My opinion of you should be insignificant."

"I am favored by the ladies," he said without modestly. She swore Louis said something similar once. "Except you, which grieves me because you are the one girl who interests me. I wanted to speak to you so badly all year, but you never gave me a chance. I could not even get you to look in my direction, so when the day came that you forgot your stethoscope I could not help myself."

"Peter, I'm not the kind of girl you think I am. Just because I focus on my studies does not mean I–"

"Never mind what Joe said. I know you are not like that."

"You seem like a nice guy. I'm just not sure I'm ready for the pressures of dating. Are you really okay with just being friends for now?"

"I am willing to accept such a proposal.–Must you really be going now?"

"I guess we could go next door to McFaddens for another drink."

This was how it all began with Peter. She finally surrendered and let someone else in.

ooOoo

The summer passed by quickly for Peter. He and Elora were often together. She certainly was not like any girl he had ever dated. Though Elora would not admit to it, they were dating. She let him pay for dinners and when he occasionally reached out she would let him hold her hand. Though they had not kissed, there had certainly been enough moments for it.

He could not understand why she was so hesitant to have a relationship. There was something in her past she was keeping from him, but he sensed she was not trying to deceive him, she merely could not bring herself to speak of it. He knew something must have really gone south with her last boyfriend, but he could not imagine something so bad as to affect her in such a way.

It was only a week away from school beginning again and he wanted to take her to the lobster festival he was so fond of in Gloucester. Though it was not difficult to find a woman who loved lobster in Massachusetts, Elora certainly showed the most excitement in going to such a festival. They spent the day gorging themselves with tasty seafood as they passed through the vendor's tables, listened to a pretty good 80's rock cover-band, and walked along the seashore.

That night as he was walking her to her apartment door he built up his courage for what was to come.

"Peter, thank you for shelling both of my lobsters today. You really didn't have to. Just look at the condition your hands are in now." She took hold of his hands in hers, holding them up for them both to view.

"It was nothing. Your delicate hands would look worse if I left it to you."

She smiled. "Well, goodnight Peter." She casually reached out to hug him. Whether she noticed or not, she did linger a tad within his embrace. As she began to step back he rested his hands on her shoulders, stopping her. Her loveliness drew him in. He could not restrain himself another moment. He gently pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

"Elora, I think I may be falling in love with you. Please tell me you feel the same way."

Her breathing increased and she looked on the verge of a tearful declaration. She did not speak immediately, but looked upon him searching his eyes. "Peter, before I speak about us there is something I must tell you. Please come inside."

She led him inside and set the water to boil for tea. She was more British than she knew. He sat on the sofa, watching her prepare the drinks. Everything about her was beautiful. He never thought he could be so turned on by a woman dipping a tea bag. She brought the tea on a serving tray and sat with him on the couch.

"I'm not sure where to start. This is not something I talk about often. Anne is the only one I have been able to confide in until now. My family does not even know. I've wanted to tell you so many times, but I was afraid how it would affect our friendship.–During my second year in college I went to France for an extended stay."

"Study abroad?"

"Sort of.–While I was there I met a guy." Peter knew where this was going. "Our friendship had a rocky start, but it soon developed into something deeper."

Trying to speed things along he said, "So you had a bad break up."

"I suppose that's what any normal person would think from my behavior ever since, but that's not quite the case."

"I am on tenterhooks; what happened?"

"After six months we were so much in love we got engaged." His stomach certainly turned. "Three months later we got married."

"Married," he gasped. This was more terrible than he could possibly imagine. "But you are not together anymore. So did you get divorced?"

"Not quite."

"Good God, you're still married!"

"Not quite." She was looking as peaked as he felt. "We were together for a year, then he suddenly died."

"Died!"

"Yes." Then those tears which she had probably been holding back until now came flowing out. "I've been widowed for over three years."

"I never expected…" he could not bring himself to finish. He stood up awkwardly. "That's why you didn't want to date…because you aren't over your dead husband?"

"No, that's not it."

"Do you still love him?" He was not sure what was wrong with that question, but she seemed hurt from it.

"I…think I will always love Louis. He was…" she smiled. "He was the best person I had ever met."

He nodded. That summed it up. It was plain to see. Elora was still in love with a dead man who she idolized. He never even had a chance with her. "I think I must be going," finished Peter.

He had opened the door and was about to leave when Elora's faint voice cried, "Please wait, Peter." He turned back to see her desperately clutching the arm of the sofa. "I'm begging you; let me finish."

"What more could there be?"

"We have not touched on the reason why we are having this conversation. I want to talk about us." He sat back on the couch beside her. "The last few years, before I met you, I was living, but really just going through the motions. When we were thrown together at Gurtmann's Grill it was the first time I really gave anyone a chance. I was not sure how to proceed. I wanted to spend time with you, but I was not certain I could love anyone in the same way again. This summer was wonderful and becoming friends with you, though unexpected, has been a blessing. I have found happiness with you that I never thought I would have again. I too found myself falling in love with you."

"Really?"

"Truly." She leaned into him and kissed him.

"So let me get this straight. The man I look like is your deceased husband?"

"Yes, but you just have his eyes. Does it bother you?" She looked worried again.

"Not the least. Just because we look alike does not mean we are the same. I get to be the one here with you; that's enough for me." He kissed her with all the love overflowing from heart.

EPILOGUE

Elora was nineteen when she first married. No one could ever replace Louis in her heart; nonetheless she had come to love Peter Winthrop. She would not let him get away; she wanted him for keeps. He proposed to her the night of her graduation from medical school. They were married by the next summer.

Though Peter could never give her gifts like Louis had, he gave her the two best gifts of all, children. Elora's oldest was Gabrielle Thérèse and then three years later came Christopher Louis. Her little princess and prince were so precious to her. They grew up hearing her bedtime story about King Louis and Queen Elora in the 1600's. Gabrielle especially loved to hear about Elora's adventures.

Elora had gone through college, became a doctor, married, had children, and became the kind of woman she always wanted to be. It seemed she had fulfilled all of her life's dreams. She had everything a woman could want; yet she felt there was still a small part of her left behind in the 17th century.

Elora still dreamed of her Louis sometimes. She loved those dreams so much she hated waking to find all it was a dream. Peter could always tell by her mood the next day if she had one of those dreams. She would share little things about Louis when Peter asked, but nothing to give suspicion of the time period which it occurred. She could never bring herself to tell Peter about her adventure in the seventeenth century. There some things in a marriage that were better left unsaid.

She had always been strong and she retained that strength even when she was older. Peter did not have that same strength that she had. She could not save him from sickness. Cancer killed him a year after the diagnosis. She had lived through so many deaths in her life, not merely her patients, but her family and friends, nothing could break her heart further. She had loved him very much, but she had a good, long life with him and she knew God was caring for him in heaven.

Now Elora was twice a widow, having outlived two husbands. She was left alone again. In the spring of Elora's ninetieth year her body began to fail her. The doctor made a house call. He assured her she would recover, but Elora knew the truth; she was dying.

Elora lay abed in her bedroom with her children and a few grandchildren around her.

She was going to miss her family so much. What would they do without her?

"What day is it, Gabrielle?"

"It's Sunday the tenth."

"The tenth of April; now that sounds familiar. Lord, thank you for this day."

"What do you mean, Mom?" asked Chris.

"Today has always been a special day for me.–I am going to die today." She did not have the strength to open her eyes, but she could hear her children crying.

"Please don't die, Mom," pleaded Christopher, as he took hold of her hand.

She opened her eyes long enough to look upon her son and daughter. "Die, my darling children?–That is the last thing I shall do.–Give me a moment alone, my dears."

Elora reached under her pillow. She looked upon Louis' portrait. The little miniature had lasted over four hundred years. The priest had given Elora the last rights only days ago. She was ready to die. "My Lord God, into your hands, I commend my spirit," Elora whispered after finishing the rosary.

Things began to grow dark, like she was falling asleep, yet still conscious. She could barely draw breath. Suddenly, there was a bright light! She could see nothing. She felt strength within herself she had not felt in years.

Elora sat up from bed. The room she was in was not her own, yet it was distantly familiar to her. She stood and was taken aback when she had no pain. It was another dream, she thought, yet it seemed so real. She was looking at herself in the mirror, but a younger self. She saw herself as she was when she was nineteen years old.

Elora walked into the quiet hallway to the Hall of Mirrors. In the distance, she saw her beloved Louis. He was standing in front of his throne. He smiled lovingly at her, as if he had just seen her a minute ago.

Elora ran up to him and touched her hand to his cheek. "Louis, I only dared to dream that I would ever see you again." Elora embraced him, never intending to let go. "I've waited so long."

Louis finally spoke, "I have been waiting just a little longer to be with you again, my love.–I told you we would reunite in heaven. For you see Versailles is our celestial city."

With arms wrapped around her, Louis kissed her. This was the kiss Elora had waited a lifetime to once again receive. This was indeed heaven. God must have known this is what she wanted more than anything. Ecstasy filled her heart, knowing she and Louis would never again be parted from one another. They would forever be happily ever after in their celestial city.

**Dear Readers,**

**Thank you so much for sticking it through. I hope the ending was pleasing to you. The Celestial City is complete! I really hope you liked the story. I had a lot of fun writing it! Now maybe I'll try to get it published! **

**I've been working on a sequel for a few months now. I'll start posting by the new year. **

**Thanks for all your support!**

**~L.B. Tempia~**


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